Containment
by Nika Dixon
Summary: Find a traitor, stop a thief, and save the world. All in a day's work. Suspense/Action/Humor/Romance. With Evan, Jen, John, and Rodney. Evan/Jen pre-ship. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:** A while back a few SGA fans asked if I could try writing a story centered around his hotness, Major Evan Lorne. After asking the evil plot bunnies (also known as GLENN - the Giant Lop Ears from North Nagook) they took some time to mull it over before giving me their answer. The following story is their contribution. It will have mystery, suspense, action, humor, and of course, a smattering of romance. Because after all, what's a great hero without his heroine? In this case, I've paired Evan with Jen. _

_NOW before you go running off saying Noooo not Evan and Jen, I ask that you give the tale a chance. Read it, digest it, and when it's done, let me know if you think the pairing has any merit. It's primarily an action/suspense story, but there will be romantic elements integral to the overall plot. I love Jen's character, and I think she has so much strength and possiblity, that everyone just needs to see past the episodes. I think it's a very interesting pairing, personally, and am really looking forward to finding out your thoughts. _

_- Nika_

_PS - Thanks to Cindy Ryan for her help beta'ing my Jack O'Neill. :) _

_PPS - I am so not a chemical engineer or scientist by any means, so any mistakes made in reference to the 'recipe'... blame Google. :)_

* * *

Jennifer Keller had never been a flirt. She just didn't have it in her. Didn't really know how – well - not properly anyway. Not practiced. Not well enough that she could accomplish anything other than getting laughed at. And, she supposed, she had to admit it was because she didn't really understand _why_. Her extremely logical mind never really figured out the required necessity of taunting or teasing the opposite sex with no other purpose than to yank their chain. If you want it, just say it.

But somehow… for some bizarre and completely dysfunctional reason… she couldn't _stop_ flirting with Evan Lorne.

It started out harmlessly enough… he'd said something in passing, and in a completely unheard of and spectacular moment of personal bravery, she'd fired back a retort, earning her laughs and surprised applause at _his_ expense, and thus, history had been made.

Coming from anyone else, Jen would most likely have been more of the mind to slap the messenger for being overly forward and completely out of line with some of the comments the man made. But coming from Evan, the slyly suggestive tone and sexy smirk only succeeded in making her laugh.

And some days, in this galaxy of insanity, Jen was very, _very_ glad that she had someone like Evan who could always make her laugh.

So she was honestly and truly pleased when he sauntered into the empty boardroom and dropped into the chair directly beside hers. Woolsey had called an emergency meeting, and that always meant bad. Yet upon seeing Evan, all the little worries were quickly put aside to make room for the flutter that was jumping around in her stomach.

He smiled to see her, blue eyes sparkling as he rolled his chair even closer. "You know, Doc, if you wanted to get me alone, you didn't need to have Woolsey pretend to call an emergency meeting."

Jen swiveled in her chair and propped her elbow on the table. Balancing her chin in her palm she held her face a few inches from his. "If I wanted to get you alone, Major, the boardroom would _not_ be the first place I'd choose."

Without moving his head, Evan glanced down at the surface of the conference room table, then quickly locked his eyes on hers. With his face hovering only inches away, he smirked. "Why not? Looks sturdy enough to me. And there'd be plenty of room to move around."

"And plenty cold, too." She shook her head slightly, rocking her chin against her palm.

"Oh… I think I'd get you warm enough."

Jen purposely dropped her gaze to stare at his mouth, pausing before moving slowly back up to his eyes. "One of these days…" She said softly. "I'm going to call you out on all these promises you keep making me."

He leaned closer, until their noses were almost touching, his voice barely a whisper. "Now who's making promises?"

A throat cleared and Jen jumped back with a squeak as both Richard and John approached the boardroom.

Richard stalled in the doorway, his eyes moving from Evan, to Jen, then back to Evan. John brushed past him and dropped into a chair on the other side of the table.

Jen felt her face cycling through just about every shade of red that was available in the color spectrum as Evan leaned casually back into his chair, a satisfied smile quirking up from the corners of his mouth. The look on Richard's face pretty much summed up what was probably a wonderful view from the hallway. The base commandeer thought she'd been making out with Evan in the conference room. _Great… just great. _She immediately found something interesting on her hands to check out while concentrating on getting her face to return to a normal color.

"Mr. Woolsey." Evan greeted. "Colonel."

"Doc." John nodded with a knowing smirk. "Major. You kids behaving?"

"Always." Evan grinned. "Now the Doc, here…"

Jen scowled and wacked him across the arm, which only succeed in making him laugh.

"All right, lets get this over with…" Rodney exclaimed with a frown as he walked up to the table and plopped himself down in a chair at the end. The conference room doors hissed quietly closed behind him.

Sliding his tablet out in front of him, Rodney looked expectantly at Richard, who was shuffling through papers at the other end of the table. When he got no response, the scientist then glared pointedly at John, who shrugged and angled his head at Woolsey.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice." Richard began, nodding at each one in turn.

Rodney sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't do it."

Richard blinked.

"Not everything's about you, McKay." John frowned.

"Oh." Rodney nodded, then smiled. "Okay then. Carry on." He waved his hand dramatically.

Richard sighed. "The IOA has requested our help with a matter of grave importance."

John snorted. "The IOA actually _asked_ for our help? Now there's something you don't hear every day."

Evan grinned. "Probably forgot where they put the latest round of regulations."

"And I'll tell you exactly what they can do with them when they find them." Rodney mumbled.

"This has nothing to do with regulations, I'm afraid." Richard shook his head.

"So what _do_ they want?" John rocked back in his chair and eyed Richard warily.

"I've been asked to wait for… official representation." Richard nodded at the video screen over his shoulder.

"Official representation?" John raised his eyebrows. "I thought you _were_ official representation."

"While the matter at hand _is_ directly related to Atlantis," Woolsey looked at the Colonel. "It is not my area of… expertise. We have been requested from the top of both the IOA, and the SGC, to commit the fullest levels of cooperation in this matter."

"Cooperation." Rodney rolled his eyes. "That's bureaucrat speak for _we're about to mess up your weekend_."

Richard touched his ear and looked up at the four people gathered in front of him. "Control room this is Mr. Woolsey. Please send the feed through to the conference room." Then he swiveled in his chair to face the large screen monitor which flickered to life in the corner. The audio was loud and abrasive as the image of an older man boisterously complained to someone off to his right.

"Who's that guy?" Rodney looked at the others, searching for any recognition for the man staring back at them from the other side of the screen.

Middle aged and balding, their burly, virtual visitor turned towards the camera and glared sternly while he adjusted the lapels on his black business suit. His bulbous face filled most of the monitor as he leaned closer to the camera, his mouth twisted into what seemed like a permanent scowl.

"You're late, Woolsey." He snapped at Richard.

"Director Wilsher." Richard nodded to the screen.

The man harrumphed in return, his eyes taking in the group at the table behind Richard. "This is _them_, then? O'Niell's crack investigative team?"

"Crack investigative team?" Evan mouthed, looking across the table at John who shook his head with a shrug.

Richard quickly made the introductions. "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Dr. Rodney McKay, Major Evan Lorne, and Dr. Jennifer Keller." He paused to the room before continuing. "Director Marcus Wilsher of the IOA's Investigative Liaison Office."

"Investigative Liaison?" Rodney frowned around the words.

"Fancy title for civilian consultant." John glanced over at the scientist.

"Colonel, Doctor, Major." He snapped as he moved his eyes around the table then stopped when he reached Jennifer, where he paused, then smiled.

At least Jen thought it was a smile. It might have just been a more maniacal version of the same smirk. She shifted nervously in her seat as his eyes narrowed slightly before he spoke.

"So _this_ is your infamous Dr. Keller?" He snorted. "She read's a hell of a lot older on paper, Woolsey. From the way everyone's singing her praises I expected grey hair and bifocals. She even old enough to vote?"

Jen blinked in surprise, her face flushing. "I'm sorry… what?"

"Excuse me?!" Evan's elbows hit the table with an audible thunk as he leaned past Jen to glare at the man on the screen.

"Director Wilsher," Richard held his hand palm up to John, who was about to echo Evan's anger at Wilsher's disrespect. "I can assure you Dr. Keller is the only person in _either_ galaxy qualified enough to assist you in this matter."

"So you keep telling me." Wilsher waved his hand dismissively. "What about these others. You're sure they can be trusted?"

"What's that supposed to mean!?" John glared at Wilsher, then turned to Richard. "Who _is_ this guy?"

"Does he realize we can hear him?" Rodney asked with a disgusted glare at the video screen.

Richard sighed. "I can assure you, Director Wilsher, my people are held in the utmost regard by both myself, and the SGC. And in the unlikely event that you have forgotten, it is _you_ that requested _our_ help. And, as you are well aware, General O'Niell personally selected this team of operatives."

"Operatives?" Jen frowned and glanced worriedly at Evan, who was still glaring at Wilsher.

"Fine. But if this goes down the flusher, it's you they'll decapitate, Woolsey." Wilsher grunted.

"I am well aware of the implications… Wilsher." Richard dropped the formalities of using the man's title in place of a pointed pronunciation of his last name. Richard made a show of glancing at his watch before looking up at the screen. "Shall we proceed?"

Wilsher waved his hand in accommodation.

"Dr. Keller." Richard turned and handed Jennifer a small file folder. "If you would kindly take a look at this? Director Wilsher would appreciate your feedback."

Wilsher snorted, then returned to his scowl.

Jen hesitated, then held out her hand, accepting the small package.

Not waiting for an invitation, John and Rodney stood up and moved to stand behind her. With Evan watching over her right arm she cast a quick glance at Richard before flipping open the cover on the folder and extracting three pages.

The first was a photocopy of a chemical analysis report from a lab in Washington DC, titled Sample A-24. Jen reviewed it, her mind quickly summarizing the elements, before setting it carefully aside. The second page was a photocopy of a hand drawn, complex chemical formula. The edges of the original appeared to have been burned, or charred. She set it next to the analysis report on the surface of the table. The third page was a glossy color print-out of a digitally enhanced DNA strand. Setting the photo down in line with the other two pages, Jen's heart began to beat a little faster as she connected the three documents together.

Jen knew exactly what it was.

The question was, _why_ was she looking at it.

Her eyes narrowed, catching something unusual in the chemical makeup in the hand-drawn sketch. She inhaled sharply, her eyes moving from the photo, to the Washington address, then back to the photo. This was wrong. Very, _very_ wrong. She looked quickly at Evan, then over her shoulder at John, who was standing directly behind her, and finally up at Rodney.

"What's wrong." John's gaze narrowed, not missing the sudden worry she was trying to hide. "What is it, Doc?"

Picking up the chemical analysis, Jen re-read the document, reassuring herself that she was right. Her heart continued its erratic beat. There was no way it could be… but this is exactly what it was.

"Where did you get this?" She looked down the length of the table to the monitor.

"That's classified." Wisher barked.

"What is it, Doc?" Evan leaned closer, scanning the pages from over her shoulder.

"Well?" Wilsher's voice grating out through the speakers. "Answer the Major. Or don't you know what you're looking at, _Doctor_ Keller?"

Jen looked at Richard, purposely ignoring the man on the screen. "You know what this is?"

"Dr. Keller." Wilsher interrupted Richard's answer, his voice sharp. "I'm not talking to Woolsey. I'm talking to you. Now answer the damn question. Do you know… what it is… you are looking at?"

Jen stared at the man on the screen, her mind spinning over the pages she held in her hand. He waved his hand as though trying to get her attention. "Heloooo. Dr. Keller… Anybody home?"

"Director Wilsher, what's your security clearance?" She finally asked.

"I beg your pardon?" He blinked.

"What's your security clearance?" Evan pronounced each word slowly, as though talking to a child.

"I heard the woman, Major." Wilsher snapped. "What I want to know is what the hell my clearance level has to do with her answering the damn question."

"Level 4." Richard answered, after quickly referring to his notes.

Jen stared into the video screen, and the angry face of the man glaring at her. She looked down at the pages before her, then turned quickly to John. "Kill the transmission."

He immediately raised his hand to his ear, his eyes never leaving Jen's. "This is Colonel Sheppard. Kill the transmission. Now."

Evan grinned at Wilsher and waved good-bye.

"Now wait just a minute!" Wilsher shouted, his face reddening. "You don't have the authority to-"

The video ended with a hiss and the screen fell silent.

"My apologies, Dr. Keller." Richard shrugged. "The man is…"

"A chauvinistic pig?" Rodney finished.

"I was going to say pompous ass…" Richard nodded in agreement. "However, we do have a more pressing matter at hand." He turned towards Jennifer. "Dr. Keller? Your findings?"

Jen stood quickly and shoved her chair away. Evan followed suit and within seconds they were all standing side by side, staring down at the three images.

"This," Jen pointed quickly to the photo of the DNA strand. "Is a computer enhanced rendition of Wraith DNA. Specifically the sequence relating to their ability to produce the enzyme." Her finger moved to the chemical analysis report. "This is a breakdown of the enzyme and its chemical reaction in the human blood stream. And, if I'm right," she picked up the last page and handed it to Rodney. "This is a recipe for manufacturing-"

"A synthetic version of the enzyme." Rodney exhaled quietly, as he stared at the document in his hand.

"Synthetic?" John blinked. "As in-"

"As in someone's trying to make their _own_ Wraith enzyme," Jen reached for the chemical report and handed it to John. "And apparently, they're already testing it on human beings."

"Talk about your performance enhancer…" Evan muttered.

"On Earth?" John looked directly at Richard.

All eyes turned to face the base commander.

"On Earth." Richard confirmed.

"So why didn't he just say so?" Evan scowled at the dead monitor in the corner.

"It was a test." Jen shrugged.

"A test?" John repeated, turning towards her.

"Despite both my assurances, and that of General O'Neill, Director Wilsher wanted to be sure Dr. Keller… knew her stuff." Richard acknowledged.

"Wait." John stepped forward. "We're dealing with a possible recipe for Wraith enzyme loose on Earth and the IOA wants to throw us a pop-quiz?" He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Richard.

Richard held up his hands in defeat. "I assure you, Colonel, this was _not_ my idea."

"Uh… don't you need a sample of the real thing to initially create a synthetic version?" Evan asked.

"Yes." Rodney and Jen echoed.

"How the hell did someone get their hands on Wraith enzyme?" John fisted his hands and shoved them deep into his pockets. "As far as _I_ know, it's never left the city."

Rodney moved to the end of the table and grabbed for his tablet. Balancing it in his left hand, he made several jabs against the screen with his right index finger. "According to the logs, all our samples are present and accounted for, and locked in the vault."

"I'll pull them all." Jen glanced quickly around the worried faces. "Make sure what's there is really what's supposed to be there."

"A task you'll need to delegate." Richard said quickly, double checking his wrist watch. "General O'Neill is expecting the four of you twenty-two minutes."


	2. Chapter 2

Jen hurried towards the control room, barely acknowledging anyone as she jogged through the corridor. Slung over one shoulder, her rucksack bounced against her lower back, stuffed to the brim with two changes of clothes, a few personal items, and her tablet with as much research as she'd been able to dump on her hard drive in ten minutes.

_Someone was experimenting with the Wraith enzyme. _Who could possibly think playing with it was a good idea? It was too twisted to even think of the ramifications. Synthetic creations were dangerous enough without adding Wraith DNA into the mix. Highly addictive, highly volatile, and in the wrong hands, highly lethal.

As far as Jen knew, all active samples of the enzyme were stored in a stasis vault. For obvious reasons, very few people had the security clearance to access that particular storage unit. As well as the enzyme, the vault contained many different poisons, antivenin, drugs, and chemical compounds of Ancient design they hadn't even begin to understand yet. If someone was in there playing around…

"Dr. Keller!" Marie's voice cut through the shudder that was kicking down Jen's spine. She turned around to face the nurse.

"One." Marie whispered as soon as she reached Jen's side.

"Shit." Jen clasped her hand to her forehead. Her heart skipped a beat at the confirmation that one of the enzyme vials was indeed missing. "Just one. Are you sure?"

Marie nodded quickly.

"Okay." Jen exhaled, starting forward again. Marie fell into step beside her.

"Tell Mr. Woolsey," Jen whispered quickly. "Have Radek run a diagnostic on the unit and find out who's accessed it in the last six to twelve months. And confirm nothing else is missing."

"Right away."

Jen hesitated, stopping below the stairs of the control room. Pulling Marie into the shadows she looked around then lowered her voice to a whisper. "No one else can know."

"This is bad, isn't it." Marie whispered back, her eyes wide.

"Oh yeah." Jen nodded. "If anyone asks, the SGC just wants us to approve some new personnel."

"Okay." Marie answered.

Jen moved to step back but Marie quickly threw her arms around her neck and hugged her tightly."Be careful." The nurse whispered.

"You too." Jen answered. "If you find anything else, tell Richard right away. Ronon, Teyla and Radek are all in the loop, as is Evan's team. But no one else is to be trusted until we have all the details. If you need help, or if anything seems out of the ordinary, find one of them right away."

"I will." Marie answered, stepping back, then she hesitated. "You honestly believe someone here…?"

Jen nodded. "I hate to think it… but… what other explanation is there? So... just... be careful."

With a quick nod, the nurse hurried across the floor of the gate room, and ascended the stairs to the control room.

Jen met the three pairs of eyes as she moved to join John, Evan and Rodney in front of the gate.

"Dial the gate." Richard's voice carried from the balcony.

All four travelers stood side by side, looking forward as the dialing sequence progressed.

"And?" John asked quietly, not looking to see if Jen heard him.

"One." She answered quietly, looking down at her shoes.

"Shit." Evan cursed.

"Radek?" Rodney asked, pretending to find a spot on the front of his shirt to pick at.

"Working on it." Jen answered, letting the shiver ride down her spine as she stared at the now solidified event horizon.

"Let's move." John nodded stepping forward.

With a last quick glance to the control room, Jen swallowed hard, then stepped through the gate to Earth.

* * *

Evan stared at the windowless walls of the SGC boardroom, his own anxiousness reflected back at him through Sheppard's finger tapping. The minute they'd crossed the event horizon they were ushered into the conference room and ordered to sit tight. The two Marines posted at the doors gave them both apologetic looks but Evan knew they were just following orders.

No one was leaving the boardroom without permission.

Jen stood in the corner across from the door, hypnotized by a poster on the wall. Rodney stared at the screen on his laptop, occasionally making odd harrumphing noises to show his displeasure at whatever it was he was reading. The Colonel was lounging in his chair, his feet on the table, the highly relaxed pose covering the apprehension Evan knew was churning beneath the surface. From his vantage point on the other side of the table from the Colonel, Evan sat with his feet on an empty chair, his own mind jumping through a multitude of scenarios at what little they knew so far.

And until they were given more information, the four of them had no indication of how bad this situation really was.

A commotion in the hallway announced the arrival of visitors, and judging by the incredibly loud posturing, Wilsher was about to make his entrance.

"Where the hell is she?" His voice cut through the silence of the room as it carried in from the hallway. "No one hangs up on me like that, I don't care what level of security she has…"

Murmured agreement preceded the commotion, as two young aids in matching blue suits backed into the room and split apart, splicing to allow Wilsher's formidable bulk through the doorway. At least 5'10" and well over two fifty, the Director's face was red with either the exertion of walking the hallway, or the anger he was projecting past the two cowering assistants.

Evan saw Jen stiffen and turn when Wilsher made his entrance, and knew she was bracing for a verbal lecture. But what Evan wasn't expecting was Wilsher to cross the room fast enough to have her almost pinned to the wall before Evan could get between them.

"Back off." Evan growled, his face inches from Wilsher's. He could feel Jen pressed against his back and had to really fight down the urge to slam his fist into the pompous idiot's face.

Instead he leaned forward and forced the Director to move back or lose his balance. Then John wedged himself beside Evan, causing the Director to have to take yet another step back for lack of room.

"You're pushing your luck, _Director_." John warned, his voice low.

Rodney appeared beside Jen and grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the corner and over to the other side of the room.

"Making friends already, Willy?" Jack O'Neill called from the doorway, stepping into the room.

Wilsher glared at John and Evan, then turned his head slightly, acknowledging O'Neill's presence with a snort. "You need better control of your people, O'Neill."

"Who, these two? Out of control? Really? Hmmm." Jack moved up to the trio and looked from John to Evan to the Director. "Sorry Will. Today, they're Dr. Keller's _people_. So put the testosterone back in your pants or get the hell out of my conference room."

"Fine" Wilsher scowled at Jen who was doing her best to glare back, despite the way she was tightly gripping her fingers in front of her torso. "We'll discuss this later."

"Like hell you will…" Evan turned away from Jen to stare pointedly at the Director.

"We're wasting time." Wilsher grunted and moved away, sitting heavily into the boardroom chair at the head of the table. His two aids moved to stand directly behind him, one of them setting the cardboard box he'd been holding onto a chair next to the Director's right hand.

Jack rolled his eyes at John and shrugged. "What can I say? They don't make civilian consultants like they used to."

"He goes after the Doc like that again and I'm going to knock his head off." John warned. "I don't care who he plays golf with."

"Look. For the moment, we need him." Jack sighed. "At least _try_ to find what we're looking for _before_ you go breaking any bones?"

"No promises." Evan glared at the back of Wilsher's head, really hoping he'd get the chance to show the man what he could do with his condescending attitude.

All eyes turned towards the door as two more men entered, both wearing dark suits. Evan didn't need to look very long to peg them both as professional letter agency types – CIA, FBI, DEA, or some unknown group no one was ever allowed to hear about. Clean cut, clean shaven, both lean and fit, and each carried a sidearm under the expensively tailored suit jackets.

"General." The first man nodded, extending his hand to shake O'Neill's before turning to John with a grin. "Colonel. Good to see you again."

"Marks." John smiled in return, piquing Evan's interest. "Still hiding behind a badge, I see."

"Beats gate travel." Marks laughed. "Never did get used to that queasy feeling of having your particles re-arranged."

"Major Lorne," John turned to Evan. "I'd like you to meet Agent David Marks. Former FBI, now, what? IOA guard dog?"

Evan shook the man's outstretched hand and Marks laughed. "As good a title as any, I suppose." He nodded, then turned to his partner. "My partner, Agent Noah Ryan."

Jen and Rodney joined in, and the introductions were made round the circle.

"So this is the infamous Dr. Keller." Marks shook Jen's outstretched had, earning him a disgusted snort from the table where Wilsher sat flipping through a file folder.

"Ignore him." Ryan rolled his eyes and smiled at Jen, taking an extra moment with the handshake before slowly releasing her hand. "He's all bluster."

"Yes, so I've heard." Jen smiled at Ryan, and extracted her fingers.

"If you're done with the cheese and crackers…" Wilsher called over his shoulder. "We have work to do."


	3. Chapter 3

"Shall we?" Jack O'Neill nodded to the empty boardroom table.

Once everyone was seated, with the exception of Agent Marks, Wilsher waved his aids away with the flick of his hand. Both young men scurried into the hallway, and closed the doors behind them.

"Aren't they well trained." John remarked under his breath to Evan, who snorted.

The Director ignored the barb and flicked his chin at Marks, who was standing at the back of the room near the video screens.

"As you're all aware," Marks began, leaning against the corner of the table, balancing a tablet in his lap. "We believe a sample of the Wraith enzyme has found its way to Earth and is currently being used to create a synthetic copy. And what we _do_ know, is where." He punched a few keys on the tablet and the screen flickered to life, revealing a aerial view of what looked like an abandoned airport. "Holdman Airfield. North Dakota." The images flipped past close up shots of the run-down buildings. "According to locals, its been boarded up for years. And from all observances, it certainly looked abandoned. Until you moved underground."

The next round of images showed a high-end laboratory with extremely expensive equipment, private rooms with observation areas and operating facilities.

"A couple of small time insurance agents were following up on a cold claim stumbled across the lab. They managed to get these photos before they triggered a self-destruct. Luckily they made it out before the whole place was destroyed. We're currently digging deeper into their case to see where the connection lies."

John frowned. "How much is left?"

"We're still sifting through the rubble, but we did manage to salvage those." Agent Ryan turned towards Wilsher, and pointed to the box the Director's aid had left on the chair.

"Dr. McKay?" Marks looked at Rodney, who stood up and moved to the box. Flipping it open Rodney used his thumb and index finger to pick up a black metal box, charred and scratched.

"Nice…" Rodney muttered, dropping the object into the box.

"It's all the hard-drive's we could pull out." Ryan shrugged. "We're told if anyone could find out what's on them, you can."

Rodney scowled at the box. "Yes well of _course_ I can. Provided there's anything left to work with."

"So who owns the lab?" Evan asked.

"That, we're still looking into." Marks answered. "Ownership of the property is buried behind a dozen fake holding companies. All international. All well set up."

"So you don't really know anything." Rodney questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"McKay." John warned, then leaned forward in his chair, angling his head towards Marks. "What _do_ you know?"

Marks crossed his arms and turned towards Jen. "Thanks to Dr. Keller, we can confirm that someone has indeed created a synthetic version of the enzyme which they are, or were, testing on human subjects. We _also_ know there has been an increased chatter through our contacts about a high-end black-market auction."

"Auction?" Jen straightened in her chair. "They're selling the enzyme?"

"We believe so." Ryan confirmed. "Someone's advertising a designer drug that will turn an ordinary soldier into a fighting machine without enhancement. It's an enticing offer. Bidding on the formula starts at 1.7 billion."

Evan whistled.

"But as far as we know, they only have one vial." Jen glanced at Rodney, then back over to Agent Ryan.

"Vial, vial. Enough with the vial already. They're not selling the damn vial." Wilsher snorted. "They're selling the recipe."

"Oh, well, then I guess since you've got it all figured out, there's no need for us to stick around." Rodney scowled and moved towards the door. "Which is good 'cause I have much better things to do than sit here and listen to a pomp-"

"McKay!" John cut him off.

Rodney hesitated, but turned around, and glared at Wilsher.

"We believe someone is planning to auction the formula off to the highest bidder." Agent Ryan said quickly. "If what we know about the effects of the enzyme to be true, it is our belief that they're marketing it as a way to create a super-soldier."

"They can't." Jen shook her head, confused.

Wilsher snorted. "You've been in space too long, missy. This is Earth. Everything's for sale."

Jen rolled her eyes, willing the man to grow a huge wart on the end of his red, bulbous nose. She looked across the table at General O'Neill, confused as to why she seemed to be the first one to bring the fact up. "They can't just sell the recipe. It's useless."

"How the hell can you know that from looking at a piece of paper?" Wilsher barked. "It took my people two weeks to even figure out what it was."

"Two weeks!" Jen gasped.

"You've been sitting on this for two weeks?" John practically shouted, his chair rocking as he snapped forward.

"Colonel. Doctor." O'Neill warned. "Will's already admitted his people don't know squat. That's why _you're_ here." Then he turned back to Jen. "You were saying, Dr. Keller?"

Jen looked at Rodney for confirmation before continuing. The expression on Rodney's face suggested he was coming to the same conclusion. There was no way someone could just sell the formula and make it work. The scientist nodded, and moved to the end of the table, taking the tablet away from Marks.

Jen stood up, and walked around the table to stand next to Rodney. Within seconds, Rodney pulled up the chemical breakdown they'd each been sent and displayed it on the monitor. Jen took a deep breath, and tried to think of the easiest way to explain what she needed to say in non-medical terms. She glared at Wilsher, daring him to comment. It was going to be difficult enough trying to explain this to a room full of non-scientist types, she didn't need him interrupting with insults every two seconds. He glared back, but kept his mouth closed.

"The Wraith enzyme does not work from one dose alone." She began. "It needs to build up in the system over time to be completely effective. Days. As long as a week."

"Can't you just double down?" Marks asked.

"Bad idea." Rodney shuddered, and Jen knew he was remembering the after affects of near death, then the painful ride coming down from the massive dose he'd consumed once. "Really bad idea."

"No." Jen answered Marks. "In order for the body to sustain functional ability, you need to _keep_ taking it, at regular intervals."

"So they'll just make more." Wilsher interrupted with a disgusted snort.

Jen ignored him, and concentrated on the others. "The enzyme is highly addictive, and the human body is not designed to adapt to the long-term effect. A person will become so addicted they can not function without a continual dose. Yes, it increases strength, agility, and stamina, but without an ongoing supply, it's useless."

"Like I said." Wilsher's voice was louder as he leaned forward in his chair. "They'll just make more."

"They can make all they want." Jen stared down the length of the table. "The only way it will work is if you use active elements in each primary batch. Any subsequent rendition will be too diluted to be of any use to anyone. "

Confused looks met her and she pursed her lips, trying to think of a comparable example.

Rodney stepped forward with a sigh. "Every new dose is a watered down version of the original. Eventually all you're going to get is-"

"Water." Jack interrupted.

Rodney clasped his hands in mock excitement. "Give the man a prize."

O'Neill elbowed Sheppard. "I get a prize."

"So you're saying that unless they have the real deal," Agent Ryan sat back in his chair. "The recipe is useless."

"Yes." Jen nodded, then rolled her shoulders. "You can't have one without the other. And without more of the enzyme… or… god forbid… a live Wraith… their formula is useless."

"So the recipe is garbage?! You couldn't have just said that without all the damn drama?" Wilsher exclaimed, pushing his chair back and standing up. "Thanks for wasting my time. God damn doctors. It's the same no matter where you are."

"I said the _recipe_ was useless." Jen called after him, noting with some satisfaction to see his shoulders stiffen before he turned back around. "I didn't say the enzyme was useless." She finished.

Wilsher glowered, his face, if possible, was even redder than before. "What?" He blinked.

"Oh give it up, Will." O'Neill ordered. "And sit down."

Wilsher glared at Jen and grudgingly returned to his seat.

"Meow." Evan whispered. Jen had to force herself not to smile at the way he was giving her an approving once over.

Instead she pursed her lips and turned back to Jack and John. "The recipe is able to duplicate several elements of the enzyme, but without a portion of the real thing with each dose, it has about as much power as a can of Red Bull. Even with the dose, there isn't enough enzyme to really make it effective because it would be so diluted. So… it's not the recipe that's important." She glanced quickly at Wilsher who was tapping his fingers on the table top. "The container that was removed from our vault contains a highly concentrated form of the enzyme. Based on the volume, there's enough pure enzyme in there to create over… what…?" She looked intently at Rodney. "Three… three and a half?"

Rodney glanced at the ceiling, made a quick calculation in his head, then nodded. "Three point seven two five units."

Jack made a face. "And in non-medical speak that means?"

"There's enough enzyme to fully juice a small army for at least six weeks." John answered quietly.

Silence.

"So what you're saying is," Ryan looked at Jen. "We need that vial."

Jen nodded. "Definitely."

"Damn vial." Wilsher muttered.

John cursed, and looked from the General to Marks, who was taking the tablet away from Rodney.

"So where do we start?" Evan asked.

"With him." Marks added a new photo to the video screen, and everyone turned to stare at the grainy, black and white shot of a man getting into the back of an airport limo. Tall and thin, with dark hair and a fair complexion, he was dressed in a white suit and wearing dark sunglasses. Beside the photo appeared a black and white close up of the man's face, minus the glasses. Jen thought he was reasonably good looking, in a typical-TV-bad-guy kind of way. Middle aged, with dark hair, narrow eyes, and a five o'clock shadow, he looked like he was trying to glare through the camera right at her.

She shivered and looked away.

"Michael Franks." Marks angled his chin. "Weapons dealer and black market supplier for anyone with cash to spend or a country to overthrow. He'll take anyone's money. And, lucky for us, he fancies himself an art collector. He's currently in DC, planning on attending a gala fundraiser for Doctors without Borders at the Pollock Gallery. They're holding a very high-end, invitation only, art and antiquities auction. We believe that's where the auction is going to take place, and with the bankroll he's got going, we're pretty confident he's going to come out the winner."

"That, and the fact that he tends to kill off the competition in lieu of betting against them." Ryan added.

"Of course he does." Rodney mumbled.

"Most bidders drop out the minute they hear Franks is interested. The one's who stay in? Well, no one ever said crooks were smart." Ryan finshed.

"Actually, that could work in our favor." John raised an eyebrow.

Everyone turned towards him.

"Let him scare or kill the other buyers off, and when he wins, we grab him, grab the vial, and Bob's your uncle." John shrugged.

"And if I don't have an Uncle Bob?" Jack whispered at John dramatically.

"We'll buy you one with the 1.7 billion you're saving by not having to put an agent in on the auction." John suggested.

"It's as good a plan as any." Ryan nodded to the Colonel. "But we still need the seller."

"If we find the vial first, then Franks is going to bid on an empty item." Marks surmised. "He is not going to be happy when he realizes he's been double crossed. I highly doubt he'll take it well."

"So. We just have to find the container, replace it with a fake, tag it, let the auction proceed, then follow Franks to the source." Evan mused. "Then, we just have to find the traitor who stole it in the first place and everyone's home for dinner."

"Sounds simple enough." O'Neill nodded. "I like it."

"Simple." Rodney muttered, shaking his head.

"When's the auction?" John asked.

"Tonight." Marks grinned.

Rodney snorted. "It would be."

"Plenty of time." O'Neill grinned. "It's barely oh-nine-hundred."

"Damn morning people." Rodney shuddered with disgust.

"It's our belief that both the recipe, and the enzyme, are going to be hidden inside one of the auction items." Agent Ryan continued, rocking back in his chair. "The question is… which one? There are potentially hundreds of items, ranging from antiques to paintings. However, since Dr. Keller is suggesting the recipe is a bust, we should concentrate on the vial."

"It's not just a vial." Jen looked around the room. "It's a conainment unit. It's not small. And it's heavy. Easily fifteen pounds empty."

"Describe it?" Marks asked.

Jen nodded. "It's a miniature stasis pod. Cylindrical. About the size of a two-liter pop bottle. Silver, with a self-generating power source that kicks in the moment it's removed from the master vault. Red lit read-out on the top confirms when it's active. The vial is inside the cylinder. It needs to be stored inside the unit at all times to keep the sample from degrading."

"So the entire container would have to be inside something pretty large." Ryan asked. "Do you have any way to detect it?"

Rodney snorted. "Of course."

"Do you have it _here_?" John looked knowingly at the scientist.

Rodney crossed his arms and tried to look innocent.

"McKay!" John ordered.

"Maybe." Rodney looked away.

"I thought I told you no Ancient tech." John muttered.

"They why did you ask if I had it here?" Rodney shook his head haughtily.

"Because I know you." John shook his head.

"Okay." Jack interrupted. "So… even though the recipe is a dud, we need that container."

"Dud." Wilsher grunted. "I still want proof of that, missy."

Everyone ignored him.

"So what's our first move?" Evan asked.

O'Neill stood up, and everyone quickly followed suit.

"Dr. McKay, you'll have full access to Colonel Carter's lab since she's off world. We need to know everything you can find out from those hard drives. You'll also assist Colonel Sheppard," Jack turned towards John. "Who will be coordinating the search and retrieval efforts from the Daedalus, which is currently in orbit awaiting your arrival."

John nodded.

O'Neill turned towards the two agents. "Marks and Ryan will be undercover at the fundraiser."

"I'll be working security." Marks looked at John. "We already have all the floor plans, blueprints, personnel list, and the guest list which is currently being cross referenced to anyone with anything in their background as small as a parking ticket. I'll get your people copies of everything we've found so far."

"I'll be behind the bar." Ryan added. "It's set up on a balcony so I'll have an good vantage point of the auction items. As well, we have internal sensors and cameras trained on the entire auction area which can be monitored on location, as well as both here and from the Daedalus."

"Which leaves us with the icing on our proverbial cake." Jack smirked, and turned towards Evan.

"Why don't I like that look?" Evan's gaze narrowed as Jack's grin increased. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Now, Major." Jack stepped forward and dropped his arm around Evan, then reached over and wrapped his other arm around Jennifer's shoulders. Standing with the two of them on either side he grinned from one to the other. "It can't really be all that bad. People do it all the time."

"Do… what?" Evan asked cautiously.

Jack smiled broadly. "Congratulations Major. Doctor. You just got married."


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: As promised, a snuggly chapter. But don't worry - the action will come back soon enough. :P - Nika_

* * *

Jen stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, and lightly cursed General Jack O'Neill for the hundredth time in as many minutes.

It wasn't bad enough Jack managed to convince her it was a good idea to pretend to be married so she and Evan could attend the function as guests, he'd also convinced her it was a good idea they pretend to be married to each _other_.

She sighed, then started to laugh, because if she had to pretend to get married, the trip to the spa today had been worth it. She hadn't felt this relaxed, this normal, since she'd stepped foot on Atlantis.

Immediately following their meeting, the Lanteans were beamed from the SGC directly to the bridge of the Daedalus. There, Jen left the men behind as she was beamed into a massive hotel suite in downtown Washington. She'd barely had time to blink before two female IOA agents whisked her off to a day at the spa, a dress fitting, and a hair and makeup appointment.

Now, after an entire day of being rubbed, massaged, waxed, relaxed, calmed, mani'd, pedi'd, soaked, and smoothed, Jen was feeling so peaceful she was ready for nap. But after seeing the magic worked by the stylist, she was afraid to do anything to wreck the gorgeous up-do they'd done on her hair. The woman had even accommodated Jen's special request to find a way to include the beautifully ornate, silver hair sticks Teyla had lent her.

The Agents had escorted her back to the suite barely twenty minuts ago. Now all that was left to do, was get dressed, and wait for Evan.

She turned towards the swatch of blue silk hanging on the back of the bathroom door. The dress was absolutely gorgeous. And incredibly expensive. She didn't know a fig about fashion but what she did know, was that it was a masterpiece, and likely worth more than most people's yearly salaries.

Gently removing it from the hanger, she carefully slipped it over her head, marveling at the feel of the crushed silk on her overly smooth skin. She turned left, then right, and eyed herself critically.

Then she laughed and spun in a circle, her bare feet turning easily on the marble floor. She felt… pampered. Pretty. Like a little girl about to go to the ball. Then she snorted. Rediculous.

She was so far out of her element, it had actually stopped bothering her hours ago. She'd decided, somewhere between the cucumber wrap and the foot massage, to just let it be. Tonight was all about pretending to be someone she wasn't, so pretend was what she was going to do. All she had to do was go to dinner, act like she was married to Evan, try not to spill any food on the gorgeous dress, and keep an eye on a cold-blooded killer.

_Piece of cake._

A knock sounded at the door and she hesitated, glancing at the clock on the wall. Quarter to six.

Showtime.

Her heart skipped a little staccato beat behind her ribs as she made her way out of the giant bathroom. Because the suite was actually two massive hotel rooms separated by a large common area, Jen had this room to herself, and Evan would be in the other one on the far side of the living area.

She crossed through her bedroom and into the private sitting area, her hand hesitating on the knob that lead into the main room. With a second knock, she took a deep breath, and cracked open the door.

And promptly exhaled.

She blinked twice before her brain figured out exactly how to process what she was seeing.

Evan Lorne, in a tux.

Dear lord the man looked absolutely… Gorgeous. Sexy. _Edible._

There was always something to be said for a good-looking man in a well tailored suit… but... _whoo_.

"Doc?" He blinked, angling his head to see around the door she was hiding behind - well, okay, holding herself up by, would be a better description, because suddenly her knees felt a little less than stable.

The black jacket hugged his broad shoulders and accented his upper arms with such definition that any woman looking was sure to lose the ability to speak. The dark color of the material was a startling contrast to the light blue of his eyes, making them look even more intense, if that was even possible. The crisp white shirt, dark tailored pants, everything fit so perfectly, he looked like he'd been born to wear it. He looked… just... really… really… _yummy_.

She dug her fingers into the door to keep from reaching out to rub her hands down his arms, over his biceps, across his chest, to see if he was real.

"Everything okay?" He asked slowly.

Jen's eyes moved across his shoulders, arms, torso, legs, then all the way back up again to the slow grin that was spreading across his mouth.

"Wow." She finally whispered. "Evan. You look…"

He grinned and stuck his finger under the collar of the white shirt. "Uncomfortable?"

She shook her head slowly, her completely addled mind struggling to think of an appropriate thing to say, but all she managed was a sigh. "Wow."

Evan laughed. "You dressed? The limo's here."

She blinked, then nodded quickly, taking a deep breath and releasing the door. She stepped back, not quite able to stop staring at him. "I… I just need... shoes. To get my... uh... shoes."

When the door swung away, Evan's smile froze as his eyes dropped. Worried she'd messed up the dress somehow, she followed the direction of his gaze down to her front, but everything was in place. She looked back up and tried to decipher the odd expression on his face.

"What?" She asked quickly. "Is something wrong?"

For the first time in as far back as he could remember, Evan was completely speechless. He knew she would be dressed up. And he understood she'd need something formal to wear, _and_ that formal would mean a dress. Of course. But… he most certainly hadn't expected…

Damn, it was warm in here.

Starting with a narrow band fastened around her neck, blue silk draped down across her front, flowing like a second skin over her body and all the way down to her toes. It hugged, it accented, it slid silently with her hips as she moved. It covered just about everything except her bare shoulders and arms, but it wasn't the skin he could see that was the problem. It was the skin he _couldn't_ see. The promise of what was underneath. Or rather, the promise of what _wasn't_ underneath.

Sometimes leaving things up to the imagination was much… much… worse.

He took a deep, slow breath and held it, willing his brain to start to work again. He concentrated on keeping his eyes above her shoulders, but it wasn't helping much either. Her hair was twisted up onto her head in a mass of golden curls that looked half messy, and half purposeful. Wisps fell down around her face, touching her bare shoulders, making his fingers itch to touch them, too.

"I'll ah… just get my shoes." She said, stepping further back.

He nodded.

Then she turned and the breath he'd been holding left his body with just about every other brain cell. Oh. My. God.

As she backed away, Jen was a little concerned she'd over done it with the dress. Evan looked a little green. Maybe it _was_ too much. She leaned towards the chair in the corner, reaching for the strappy heels that were still in the box, when Evan made an odd gurgling sound.

She turned around, concerned. "Ev?"

He was looking rather… off.

She stepped forward, the ankle straps of the heels dangling from her finger tips. "Are you okay?"

"Is that supposed to be like that?" His voice was a strangled whisper. He cleared his throat.

"What?" She looked down at the shoes.

"Your dress." He tried again. "The back."

Jen turned and tried looking over her shoulder at the backside of the dress, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "Yeah… that's the style. Why? What's wrong with it?"

Flustered, she ran her hand lightly over the material. Everything looked straight and in its proper place.

Evan tried not to stare. Tried, and failed miserably.

There was absolutely no material on the back side of the dress. None. Nothing except for a strip of cloth that barely covered her bottom, and for all appearances, looked like it was being held together by nothing more than a row of silver fasteners that ran a very accenting line down the center of her cheeks.

Shoulders, spine, the delicate curve of her lower back, all completely exposed, just bare, creamy skin, then a foot wide swatch of blue silk across her bottom before the material disappeared in a high-sided slit running straight up between her legs. Long… long legs. And judging from how low the material dipped down, way, way down, across her lower back, there was absolutely no way in hell the woman could possibly be wearing anything under that dress.

Jen turned back around. "You… you don't like it?"

Evan looked up into her worried face and tried to find the words… word, hell _any_ word. "No." He managed to swallow. "Yes." He corrected. "I mean… it's… won't you be…" _Ogled_, he wanted to say, but settled for "Cold?"

She took a step forward, then stopped, her hesitation making him regret his inability to remain in control. She gnawed her lower lip before finally speaking.

"I um… kind of want to be cold."

He raised an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes and gave her head a small shake. "When I get nervous I tend to… overheat, and it makes me… queasy. And, well, keeping cool… helps me keep a clear head."

"Nervous." His mind grasped on to her words. Conversation. Conversation was good. Safe. Nice, safe conversation.

She nodded. "Really, _really_ nervous."

"Why? We're just going to dinner."

"Yeah! Dinner with a psychotic arms dealer who controls an army of mercinaries and kills anyone who gets in his way!" Her fingers nervously twirled the shoes in the air beside her hip.

_Ah,_ he thought with a sigh of relief. _She was worried about Franks. Good. Well, not good that she was worried. But good that this was a topic he could handle._

"That is exactly why we're _not_ posing as the competition." He said softly. "Look. Rodney's probably already modified the ship's sensors to detect the containment unit. Marks will replace it with a dummy before the auction even begins. All we have to do is eat dinner, place a few non-threatening bids on a couple of items, and keep an eye out for anyone else who's aggressively bidding on our container. Franks isn't going to try anything in the middle of a 300 seat banquet. _Nothing_ is going to happen."

"Then why do I feel like I'm stepping into an episode of _Chuck_?" She gave an exaggerated shrug. "What if he recognizes us? Whoever stole it could have known we'd figure it out. It's not like we're hiding our identity. We'll be... be... sitting ducks."

"Jen." Evan leaned closer. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"But-"

"I'm not…" He cut her off. "Going to let _anything_ happen to you. Okay?"

She bit the inside of her cheek and stared up at him. After a moment, she took a deep breath, then nodded as she exhaled. "Okay."

He smiled. "Good. Now put your shoes on so we can get downstairs before your limo turns back into a pumpkin."

Jen smiled and shook her head. Balancing on one foot, she placed her hand on his shoulder to steady herself while she slipped on her shoes.

She turned to grab the small clutch purse she'd left on the bed, and Evan was once again was treated to a view of her backside. This time the legs came accented with a pair of silver spiked heels.

"You don't want… a wrap, a coat, something?" He managed to strangle out.

She smiled and turned around. "It's September. Not December. I'll be fine."

_It's not you I'm worried about._

"Oh." He dug quickly into the front pocket of his jacket. "I almost forgot." He held out a small black box.

Jen's smile wavered as she stared at the box in his hand. "Is that…"

He cracked it open, more intent to see the look on her face, than the massive diamond solitaire and matching wedding band he knew was in the box. Something in his chest tightened to see how enamored she was with the contents. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the box, her bottom lip firmly trapped between her teeth. She looked up at him, a soft smile touching the corners of her mouth. Then she looked back down at the box, her fingers hovering in the air above the rings.

"Ohmygod." She whispered. "It must have cost a fortune!"

"Luckily, not my fortune." Evan smiled, and pulled the rings out of their silk holder. He tossed the box onto the chair by the door then lifted her hand and slowly slid the rings into place.

Jen stared down at the rings on her finger, turning her hand this way, then that, holding it up in front of her face, then extending her arm out straight. "God. You can probably see this thing from the Daedalus." She muttered, then laughed. "It's… beautiful."

_Yes. Beautiful._ He thought, the rings forgotten as she smiled brightly at him.

She grabbed for his left hand, and compared his band with hers. "Ooh, they match."

With a deft kick from his sporadically functioning brain, he cleared his throat. "Well, uh, shall we?"

She nodded, and released his fingers.

Evan moved into the living area, the man his Momma raised demanding he stop and hold the door open for her. Then the little voice in his head started yelling at him to go out first so he could avoid standing behind her. He shook his head and almost laughed. There were definitely worse – far, far worse – assignments. He was going to owe O'Neill big time for this - the General could have picked anyone to accompany her. The laughter was suddenly crushed under a shocking flash of jealousy to think of anyone else being able to see her in this dress.

_Oh, it was going to be a long, long night._

She stopped in the hallway, and waited while the double French doors closed behind them.

"Mrs. Lorne." He crooked his left elbow out, and she wrapped her fingers around his upper arm.

"Mrs. Lorne?" She raised her eyebrows, stepping beside him down the hallway. "Awfully presumptuous. What if I want to keep my last name?"

"My wife. My name." He commented, his voice dropping a level of it's own volition.

"Well, that's very alpha-male." She pretended to scowl, but ended up laughing instead. "Fine. Mrs. Lorne it is."

Waiting for the elevator, Evan tried to come up with something to concentrate on other than the way her hand felt on his arm. He found himself staring at the carved silver sticks that appeared to be holding up her hair. "Those are… interesting."

He groaned internally. _Wow that sounded intelligent._

Jen smiled. "Teyla lent them to me." She turned her face away so he could get a better look.

"Teyla?" Evan leaned closer, fighting ignore the light scent of flowers and vanilla that surrounded her. "So, they're Athosian?"

Jen laughed. "And deadly."

Evan started to smile when he realized the silver points on the end weren't just pointed for show. They were incredibly sharp, and probably very dangerous. "Knives?"

Jen nodded and grinned slyly. "Teyla said they were for… how did she put it? In the event I should require something… sharp."

Evan laughed as the elevator doors slid open. Guiding her inside, he pushed the button for the lobby, and stared at his… their… entwined reflection in the mirrored doors.

"You're staring again." He glanced sideways at her, smiling to see her face coloring with a heated flush.

"Sorry." She shook her head and smiled. "You just look… really… good… in a tux. Very super-spy."

Evan grinned and rolled his eyes. "Ah yes. Every girl wants to marry the secret agent."

Jen pursed her lips and shook her head, her fingers tightening around his arm as she leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially. "Actually, I'm pretty sure every girl wants to marry a pirate."

"A pirate."

"Yep."

Evan blinked. "Really?"

She nodded.

"Every girl wants to marry a pirate." He repeated with a knowing nod.

She nodded again.

As the floor numbers dropped into the single digits, he leaned closer and growled in her ear. "Arrrrrg."

Jen was laughing so hard when the doors opened, Evan had to hold her arm to keep her from stumbling into the massive potted fern standing outside the bank of elevators. She now had both her hands around his left arm as she staggered along beside him, her laughter echoing through the lobby.

He didn't mind the added contact, or the knowing looks he was getting from the concierge and the staff behind the counter.

They were supposed to be having a good time.

After all, they'd just gotten married.


	5. Chapter 5

"Tah-dah!" Rodney thunked a large silver container onto the desk in front of John.

John put down the floor plan he was reviewing and eyed the cylindrical tube. He lifted it off the desk, feeling the solid weight in his hands. "This is the replacement?"

Rodney rolled his eyes and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "And people say you're not observant. It's as good as it's going to get with absolutely no lead time and nothing to work with but a Coleman thermos and an alarm clock."

"Coleman thermos?" John raised an eyebrow.

Rodney nodded. "Had to get the cylinder somewhere. Wrapped it in sheet metal and capped it with-"

John pointed to the digital read out on the top. "The alarm clock?"

"Wow. That's quite the leap."

John fiddled with the top.

"Don't open it!" Rodney slapped his hand and snatched the cylinder back. "You'll let all the ball bearings out."

"Ball bearings?" John frowned.

"Had to fill it with something heavy." Rodney stepped back and cradled the fake containment unit.

"Do we have the location original?" John asked.

Rodney shook his head. "Marks says he's picking up the power unit in the general area, but he's having a difficult time narrowing it down with the handheld. You know it would be much faster if-"

"McKay, you're _not_ going to the party."

"But I-"

"No." John frowned. "I need you here. Marks used to work with SG-8. He knows what he's doing."

"Fine." Rodney scowled.

They stared at each other in silence.

"Well?" John looked at him expectantly.

"Well what?"

"Can you help Marks narrow it down?"

Rodney sighed and waved his free hand in the air. "Of course. Just a simple tweak to the scanner." He stepped forward, eyeing the floor plans spread out in front of the Colonel.

John raised his eyebrow and stared at the scientist.

"What?" Rodney looked up and frowned.

John shook his head, and pointed to the container. "Fix the scanner, and get that to Marks."

"Right." Rodney nodded, then snapped his fingers. "You know I could personally see to it-"

"McKay!" John warned.

"Fine." Rodney sighed, turning away. "Always the bridesmaid never the bride. But next time I get to go to the party."

"I'm sure Lorne would love to have married you, too!" John laughed.

Rodney flipped his middle finger up over his shoulder and disappeared into the hallway.

* * *

Evan wasn't quite sure exactly when it happened, but at some point between their arrival in the limo, and the start of the dinner, he'd completely lost track of every ounce of training he'd ever been given in regards to watching a crowd.

He should be paying attention to the room.

He should be watching for Franks.

He should be confirming layouts and door placements in relation to the floor plans he'd memorized.

He should be doing a dozen different things.

But he wasn't.

Because he hadn't stopped moving from the moment they'd walked out the door of their hotel suite.

They minute they'd stepped into the limo outside their hotel, she'd been a kid in a candy shop. Everything was to be explored. Buttons to push. Sky roof to open. She turned on the television just to make sure it worked. Opened the bar to see what was inside. Raised and lowered the screen between the front and the back, much to the amusement of their IOA driver. She had Evan laughing so hard at her insistence on checking out absolutely everything, his sides ached.

Then, when they'd arrived at the art gallery, he'd made the wonderful mistake of reaching for her hand to help her out of the car and she hadn't let go.

He lead her up the massive flight of stairs from the street into the main gallery, stopping a half-dozen times against the pull of her hand as she paused to look at the lights of the city, the building, the architecture, the spotlights, the security guards, the line of limos waiting to let out their passengers.

In the lobby, she'd dragged him around the gigantic marble fountain, stealing a quarter to kiss and throw in with a wish. She stared at the domed ceiling while she nearly walked into just about everyone until he finally made her agree to stop walking while she was looking up. They listened to the pianist playing on the baby grand, climbed to the balcony on the upper floor so she could see out over the city, then she pulled him back down to the main floor to explore further. They studied paintings, looked at sculptures, and read about some of the artifacts situated in the concourse.

By the time the doors opened to allow everyone into the main dining room an houre later, Evan figured he'd walked several miles, climbed a dozen flights of stairs, and had laughed more in one night than he had in months.

Jen gaped and followed Evan into the grand ballroom, her hand in his, letting him lead her forward. She heard his laughter and looked away from the giant orchid that was growing up the wall.

"What?" She smiled, letting him guide her towards the side, out of the way of the incoming crowd.

"You're going to give yourself whiplash." He grinned, turning towards her.

She laughed, and squeezed his upper arm, glancing quickly up at the massive flower over her head. "Sorry, is it that obvious?"

"Obvious that you can't keep your hands off me, _wife_?" He teased, looking down to where she was still holding his arm.

"You wish, _husband_." She snorted, and wacked him across the chest with her clutch purse. "Maybe if you weren't such an absentee spouse, I wouldn't be so desperate for a little contact."

"Absentee spouse." He raised an eyebrow.

Jen sighed, and shook her head with mock sadness, twirling a lock of loose hanging hair around her finger. "Too busy working all the time to notice your poor wife, sitting at home… all alone."

"How else can I afford to keep you?" He made a face. "Spending all my hard earned money on shoes."

"I like shoes." She said defiantly. "Especially the boots."

"Boots." Evan angled his head.

Jen nodded and leaned closer. "Black leather. Stiletto heels." She pursed her lips. "You get the idea."

"Whoo." Evan exhaled. "Remind me I need to come home more often."

Jen laughed, and shook her head towards the quickly filling room. "Come on Mr. Lorne. Lets find our table."

"As you wish, Mrs. Lorne." Evan reached for her hand again and she quickly threaded her fingers through his.

He turned to lead her through the sea of tables and chairs, looking for the centerpiece with the number 39 – their table. They found it near the back, close enough to the bar they could clearly see Ryan.

An older couple was already seated, and introductions were quickly made. Jen almost laughed aloud when Evan introduced her as his wife, but then quickly stuttered because she was supposed to _be_ his wife.

The older woman, Marjory, was a retired history professor. Her husband George, a lawyer. They'd come to the gala in support of their son, who was a doctor working for the UN efforts in Afghanistan. Jen immediately felt a connection to the older couple and the conversation easily followed. A second couple joined a few moments later, and introduced themselves as Thomas and Caroline Shoe, both investment bankers. The fourth couple, Sarah and Elson Dyson, came last. Sarah was a real-estate broker, and Elson was VP of technology at a large software firm. The introductions made, everyone settled into polite small talk.

After a few minutes, Jen noticed Evan's mental withdrawal, and immediately turned to see what had his attention. He was staring at a table two spots over. Her fingers tightened against his upper arm, and her breath caught.

_Michael Franks._

She looked quickly away.

Evan turned back towards their table, angling his head so he could whisper in her ear. "Relax. He's not going to try anything here. He wants to have a quiet evening just like the rest of us."

Jen nodded, but couldn't stop her heart from beating just a little bit faster. With her hands in her lap, she gripped the tiny clutch purse and stared at the place setting in front of her, trying to remember that she was supposed to be having fun. With a killer two tables over.

"Hey." Evan whispered.

She looked up, glancing quickly past him to where Marks was holding the chair out for the lithe model who come draped over his arm. Jen looked back at Evan, who was watching her intently.

"Nothing's going to happen." He said softly. "Okay?"

She tried to smile, but wasn't sure if she was succeeding. "Okay."

"I promise."

"Okay." She nodded again.

A few moments later she wriggled in her chair, her bladder winning the argument. She leaned towards Evan. "I have to find the ladies room." She whispered.

He nodded and stood up, pulling her chair out for her.

Jen rose. "I'll be right back."

"You want me to come with you?" He offered.

She shook her head and smiled. "It's called the _ladies_ room for a reason."

Evan hesitated, not sure if he should insist.

Jen pointed to the grand staircase in the corner, which lead up to a second floor balcony overlooking the ballroom. "It's right up there. I'll be five minutes, tops."

"The day a woman takes only five minutes in a bathroom is the day hell freezes over." The older man, George, said with a laugh, earning him a good-natured glower from his wife, Marjory.

Jen smiled, and looked at Evan, who finally nodded.

"Five minutes." He said softly.

Jen laughed, and turned to weave her way through the tables. Evan took a moment to sit, not missing the heads turning as she passed, nor the man who nearly tripped on the stairs as she climbed, hips swaying under the press of blue silk. Evan almost groaned as she moved up the steps.

"Son," George laughed. "You've got it bad."

"Bad?" Evan tore his gaze away from Jen only once she'd disappeared out of sight around the corner of the stairs. He turned towards George and Marjory.

"Oh George." Marjory laughed. "I still remember when you used to look at me like that." She made a face.

"I still do, my dear." He patted her hand lovingly. "I still do."

"I don't turn heads quite like that anymore." She smiled, a little sadly.

"Oh, I don't know about that." Evan reached across Jen's empty seat and picked up Marjory's hand, raising it to kiss the back of her fingers. "If I wasn't worried George would kick my ass…" He winked suggestively.

Marjory laughed and yanked her hand away. "Oh you're a devil, you are."

Evan grinned and sat back, his eyes moving from the balcony to the stairs and back again, waiting for a flash of blue.

* * *

Standing in the powder room off the main bathroom, Jen checked, and double checked her appearance. Not that it mattered, really, it wasn't like she was here on a date or anything… and well, okay maybe she was a little nervous about sitting so close to Franks, but the auction wasn't until after dinner, and Evan was probably right that the man wasn't going to cause any trouble in front of so many witnesses.

But… oh hell.

Who was she kidding.

She was just stalling.

With a shake of her head she stepped out of the bathroom and turned towards the left, momentarily forgetting which direction the stairs were in. Walking forward, she stopped suddenly when a hand wrapped around her upper arm.

She laughed and turned, knowing Evan wouldn't have waited. "I'm sorry, I was just-"

Her smile disappeared and she automatically took a step back.

Director Wilsher.

And he looked absolutely furious.


	6. Chapter 6

"What the hell was that little stunt about this morning?" Wilsher growled menacingly, pulling Jen around the corner and into an alcove.

She tried to dig in her heels, but only succeeded in stumbling into him. "Let go of me." She ordered.

"Not until we finish our little chat." He scowled.

"Oh. Okay. Well, I'm finished."

He showed his teeth. "I'm not."

"Director Wilsher. If you want to talk, use a phone." She said quickly. "If you want to file a complaint, there's a proper procedure in place. Now let go of me." She tried to pull her arm free, but he held tightly, pushing her back against the wall. Her bare back felt cold tile and she shivered.

Wilsher released her arm then blocked her in. He leaned down, his face inches from hers.

Jen held her breath. She _knew_ he was going for the intimidation factor – his size versus hers. Hell, just about everyone was bigger than she was. But what she didn't want to admit was that quickly increasing heartbeat was telling her his intimidation tact was succeeding.

"You're off this assignment." He ordered.

"I… what?" She shook her head. "No. We need that container back."

"There's enough men her to take care of finding the damn container." He glared. "You and your pretty party dress are going to high-tail it back to the SGC."

"I'm not going anywhere." Jen glared back and tried to look… bitchy.

"I don't appreciate your attitude, young lady." He snapped. "I gave you a direct order. You have no authority here. You're not the CMO of anything in this galaxy. I brought you here and I can damn well send you home."

"No you can't." Jen blinked.

"I can't?"

"I don't report to you."

He glared, his voice dropping. "You leave, or I'll make you leave."

Jen swallowed hard, deciding retreat was really the best option. "Okay, leaving now." She exhaled, and tried to push past him. He didn't move and she only succeeded in bumping into him. She stepped back and tried to glare.

Wilsher laughed, low and hard. "Oh, don't think for a minute I don't know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours. All that women's lib crap. You come waltzing in and try to tell me how to run my mission. Bringing your people in to show me up. I know how it works, sweetie, and this time, it ain't working. You may have O'Neill eating out of the palm of your hand, but I'm not that gullible."

Jen frowned, forcing herself to look him in the face. "What are you talking about?"

At the meeting this morning, she'd known he was pissed off at her, but this was a little far and beyond.

The agents who'd helped her get ready for the party had both told her the man had serious issues with women in general, and more importantly, issues with women in any kind of position of power. They'd warned her to avoid him at all costs, but Jen didn't really believe the man was anything more than verbal bluster. She'd come up against dozens like him over the years, and each one was all bark and no bite. Men who were so personally affronted by a woman who could do their job just as well, if not better, that they tried to push back, make them quit, or force them into resigning. They'd scare you into thinking you had no other course of action than to leave and let them have whatever prize it was they thought you wanted to take from them.

She recognized the signs, but she had absolutely no idea what it was Wilsher thought she was trying to do.

She turned her head away when he leaned even closer and hissed in her ear. "A case like this could make or break a career, sweetheart. And it is a career I plan to ride all the way to the top. I will not stand idly by and let some skirt think she can get the better of me. I don't care who your friends are. I do not tolerate anyone trying to make me look like an idiot."

"You're doing just fine with that on your own." Jen muttered, flattening both hands against his chest and trying to shove him away, but it was like pushing a wall. A very overweight wall.

He was standing way too far into her personal space and she was beginning to feel the panic rising. Jen argued with herself that it was exactly what he wanted, and if she let it, he'd win. But she was having a harder and harder time keeping it inside. If he didn't move away soon, she was going to have to try and move him away, and oh crap she couldn't remember a damn thing she'd learned from Ronon or Teyla…

Her mind automatically defaulted to her mouth. "Director Wilsher this is completely inappropriate behavior for a member of the IOA. If you don't move out of my way right now, I, I'll-"

"Yes? You'll what?" He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his face back so she could see him while he glared at her. "Cry? Say I accosted you? Scream sexual harassment? Trust me sweetheart, better women than you have tried with far worse accusations and I'm still standing."

"I…what? No. I wasn't…" Jen shook her head, completely shocked at the sudden turn of the conversation. He thought she wanted his job and was going to cry sexual harassment to get it? "That's not what I said… I mean…"

"Although…" He snorted. "You _are_ awfully young to have been appointed Chief Medical Officer without some kind of special service." He inched forward, giving her a disgustingly slow once over. "And you do come very highly recommended. Recommendations that could be interpreted in a variety of different ways… or… _positions_. Maybe you'd be worth a little disciplinary action…"

Anger and fear shot Jen's hand up without thought, aiming directly for his face but unfortunately, it was precisely what he was expecting her to do. He trapped her hand in one of his beefy paws, and pulled her off balance. She aimed with her left, then realized she was still holding her purse, and with her weight already off balance, she stumbled sideways.

_Stupid heels! No one taught her how to throw a punch while wearing four inch spikes, damn it!_

Wilsher grabbed her arm and shoved her back, squashing her fingers while sliding his free hand suggestively down her back before pulling her lower body tightly against his.

"Let me go." She hissed, her stomach rolling with the disgusting feel of the man's hand against her bare skin.

Wilsher laughed. "You just accosted me. That's grounds for suspension in my books."

"I did not!"

Wilsher snorted. "Your word against mine, sweetheart."

"Wilsher!" A voice growled from corridor.

Jen's head snapped around, her heart skipping several beats before resuming its panicked drum roll.

_Evan_.

Relief flowed over her until she got a good look at him and realized just how angry Evan was. He strode around the corner, his hands fisted tightly at his sides. His jaw was clenched to the point of bulging, and his eyes were so dark they were almost black.

Wilsher dropped his hands and stepped back, releasing Jen from her flatted position against the wall. She stepped quickly towards Evan, who immediately pulled her in behind him.

A trio of women turned the corner and walked past, their laughter breaking through Evan's coursing desire to wipe the floor with the Director's smirk. He did his best to block out the image of Wilsher's hands on Jen, and concentrated on the mission. A distraction this close to the auction could ruin everything. Besides. It wasn't like he wouldn't be able to easily find out where the man lived once they were done here tonight.

"You okay?" Evan asked Jen, not taking his eyes off the man he so desperately wanted to knock senseless.

"I'm fine." She nodded quickly. "Director Wilsher was just leaving." To her ears, her voice sounded a hell of a lot calmer than she felt. Later, she might be able to laugh over this whole thing, but right now, at this exact moment, all she wanted was to get as far away from the man as possible. She reached out and placed her hand against Evan's lower back, comforting herself with his presence, and desperately wanting to leach some of his stability. A tiny shiver shot down her spine and she shuddered.

When Evan felt the tremble in her palm against his back, he nearly lost control. He had to double his efforts _not_ to punch the slime-bag right here and now. He stared him down, watching the calculations flying as Wilsher sized him up, looking for a weakness. Well, he wasn't going to find one. Evan evened his weight and readied himself for a fight.

The Director took a step forward and Jen stiffened with a sharp breath. Evan reached back and moved her further behind him, waiting for Wilsher to telegraph his first move.

Jen leaned around the broad shoulders that were shielding her. She could see the flushed anger on Wilsher's face. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to take a swing at Evan, but he was holding back. Barely. The last thing they needed was for a fight to break out, especially because of her. It would distract everyone from the task at hand. But, if Wilsher was so worried about his job, then she'd let him be.

She cleared her throat and attempted to find her voice. "Director, if you want to catch Franks, you're not going to do it from up here."

The Director narrowed his gaze, held his breath, then exhaled with a sneer as he obviously came to the healthiest conclusion. Evan would kick his ass.

Evan gave Wilsher a hard stare. "Leave. Now."

Wilsher glared at Jen, his eyes narrowed as he considered his options. After a long, tension filled moment, he turned and walked away. At the end of the corridor he stopped and looked back, giving them a jovial nod. "Until next time." Then he disappeared around the corner.

"There's not going to be a next time." Evan called, but Wilsher was gone.

Evan turned towards Jen. Her spine was rigid and she was staring at him wide-eyed. "Did he hurt you?" He asked quickly, his eyes moving over her arms, shoulders, neck, face.

Jen shook her head. "No. He just sca - surprised me." She bit back admitting he'd scared her, refusing to give the creep any credit. She was already going to have nightmares for a week.

"What the hell that all about?"

"He thinks I'm after his job."

"He thinks..." Evan frowned, unable to grasp the logic. He shook his head. "Look, maybe we should just get you back to the Daedalus."

"No." Jen shook her head firmly. "That's exactly what he wants. I'm not letting him win. I'm okay. Really. I'm fine. He just… surprised me is all."

Evan watched her, not believing for a moment that she was as fine as she said. "You sure?"

She nodded, blinked, then looked down the hallway to where Wilsher had gone. "I'm sorry." She shook her head, her voice quiet. "It seems I can't even go to the bathroom without causing trouble." She turned back, exhaling a shaky breath.

She rubbed the back of her neck and Evan could see the tiny shake in her fingers. He cursed himself again for letting her go alone. "Hey." He reached out, and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her, as much for his own peace of mind than hers. "This is not your fault."

"Yeah. I know." Jen quickly latched her arms around his waist and rested her forehead on his shoulder. "Apparently the Director has issues with women."

"Gee, you think?" Evan muttered.

After a few moments, he felt her shoulders finally relax. She slowly moved her hands out from beneath the edges of his jacket, and Evan felt her fingers moving for the M9's secured in the double holsters he wore around his shoulders under the expertly tailored jacket. He felt her laugh before he heard it.

"Why Mr. Lorne." She lifted her head. "Two? For me?"

"Are you kidding?" He grinned, relieved to see her smiling again. "With your luck? There's actually three."

She snorted swatted at him.

Evan shook his head and reached for her hand, pulling her out of the alcove and towards the stairs. "No more going _anywhere_ alone." He growled, with a little more force than necessary.

"I had a feeling you were going to say that." She smiled.

He motioned for her to stay back while he moved towards the stairs, double checking that Wilsher had indeed left. He turned around when he felt her hand land lightly on his upper arm.

"Thank you." She said sincerely. "You have impeccable timing."

"Not impeccable enough." He muttered, guiding her down the ornate staircase. "Or he never would have gotten his hands on you in the first place." He blinked against the visual image of Wilsher grabbing her, and shook his head. "Look, Jen. When this is over…"

"I know, I know." She interrupted with a soft laugh, and followed him through the tables. "You're going to kick his ass."

Evan stopped and turned towards her. "Actually… I was going to say, when this is over, you need to report him."

"Oh." Jen blinked.

"And _then_ I'll kick his ass."

.

.

.

_Author's Note: Okay so how much do you like Wilsher now???? :P There is a method to my madness, and GLENN says to tell you, they really, really wanted to make sure you're all ready to kick wilsher's ass. We all know someone just like him, don't we ladies! :) - Nika_


	7. Chapter 7

With her hands clenched tightly in her lap, Jen cursed the collection of dinner plates and silverware. Too many forks, knives, spoons. Two prongs and three. Long handle and short. Big spoon and small. Extra plates and extra glasses. The only thing she'd easily figured out was the water glass because it had, well, water in it.

She sighed at the spring-mix salad the waitor had deposited in front of her and gave her three forks the evil-eye. She thought about getting a dinner roll, but then came the whole arguement over which plate was hers - the one on the right, or the one on the left. She supposed she could just pick it up and eat it like an apple, then she wouldn't need a plate...

The tablecloth brushed her knuckles as Evan's hand slid across her lap. She quickly flipped her hand over and threaded her fingers through his, seeking reassurance. When she looked up, he was grinning.

"It's not funny." She whispered harshly. "I told you I have no idea what I'm doing."

He leaned closer, turning his head so he could speak quietly in her ear. "I don't think it matters."

"What, that I don't know what I'm doing?"

"No, which fork you use."

"They why give you so many?" She frowned.

He shrugged then angled his head towards their table. "No one else seems to care."

Jen glanced around the table, trying to see what everyone else was doing. George and Marjory were both eating salad with the smaller forks. The investment bankers, Thomas and Caroline were using the big forks. Sarah had her bread on the plate to her left, and her husband Elson was eating salad off her small plate with his bread to the right. George and Marjory were sharing a dinner roll the side plate that sat in between them, fighting over how much butter to put on each piece.

Jen felt Evan's fingers squeeze hers before releasing them, and she turned back towards him with a smile.

He winked and sat back in his chair.

"Fine." She laughed, reaching for a fork. "But if the etiquette police show up, I'm blaming you."

"Throwing me to the wolves already, huh." He shook his head sadly, then sighed. "Guess the honeymoon's over."

"We had a honeymoon?" She glanced sideways at him. "Funny, you'd think I'd remember something like that."

"Well if you knew how to hold your liquor," he reached for his water glass. "You might remember more than just the bathroom floor."

"Well if _you_ weren't so bad in bed, I wouldn't have had to drink so much." Jen countered, trying very hard to keep a straight face.

Unfortunately Evan was in the process of drinking his water when she spoke and he choked, nearly spitting it out. He began to cough violently, earning them both curious stares from the rest of their table.

"Oh, you'll pay for that." He warned, coughing around his laughter.

Jen laughed so hard she nearly cried.

* * *

By the time dinner had finished, and the desert plates were cleared, Jen was having a great time. She'd completely forgotten – purposely – all about Franks and Wilsher and decided that if there was nothing she could do until the auction, then there was nothing she could do. May as well enjoy it. It wasn't every day she got to go to a ball. Well, okay, so she'd actually _never_ been to a ball. A wedding or two, but most of her friends had church services then off to the community hall. Most certainly _not_ a $1000 a plate fundraiser at an incredibly beautiful gallery.

She spent just as much time chatting as she did just looking around.

Once their table was cleared, and the tea and coffee decanters left behind, the lights dimmed in the ballroom. In the corner, a medium sized orchestra was set up and was now playing soft classical music. The large open floor on the far side was slowly filling with couples, including the rest of their table.

Their table quiet except for the two of them, Jen leaned over and grabbed for Evan's hand, sliding his sleeve up to check his watch. It was barely ten.

She sighed and leaned back, glancing at Evan, who was watching her with amusement.

He leaned closer. "You'd be terrible on a stakeout."

She snorted. "I hate waiting."

"I've noticed." He tapped the table and glanced over at the bar, which was set up on a low balcony on the opposite side of the room. He pushed his chair back and stood. "I'm going to check in with Ryan. See if there's any word on the container."

He stepped away, then changed his mind, turning back to whisper in her ear. "Stay. Here."

Jen rolled her eyes. "And what makes you think I _can't_ get into trouble just sitting here?"

He smiled and shrugged. "Knowing you? Nothing. But at least I'll know where to find you when the fireworks start."

Jen laughed. "Then bring me back a cranberry juice."

Even pretended to shudder. "I don't know how you can drink that stuff." He shook his head when she laughed, and turned away.

At the bar, Evan slid onto a stool in the corner and waited for Ryan to finish up with some real customers. When Ryan finally approached, and Evan leaned across the bar.

"Nothing yet." Ryan said quickly. "Marks is close. Dr. McKay had to make some modifications to the scanner. He delivered it and the bogus container before supper."

"Cranberry juice." Evan said when a patron walked past.

Ryan nodded. "Marks thinks he found it." He went through the motions of pouring the juice. "But he has to keep moving so he's only able to get a closer look every 15 minutes."

Evan glanced past the swarm of party goers to the large curtained off area on the opposite wall. The artwork and auction items were listed in the brochure that everyone received with their place setting, but nothing was viewable until eleven o'clock when the curtains would lift and each item would be auctioned off one at a time.

If Marks was able to walk behind the curtain on regular rounds, it would make sense he could only stop for a few minutes at a time before someone would get suspicious that he hadn't reappeared out the other end.

Ryan set the full glass on the bar and dropped in a straw.

"We've got less than an hour." Evan reminded him.

"Then you'd better drink fast." Ryan slid the drink towards Evan. "If we don't find it, we're going to have to move onto Plan B."

"Didn't realize we had a plan B." Evan angled his head.

"We don't." Ryan shrugged. "And that's the problem."

* * *

"You found it?" John walked into the lab Rodney had commandeered in one of the lower levels of the Daedalus, and stopped next to the scientist.

"Marks did." Rodney looked up. "It's a Trojan horse."

"As in the virus?" John frowned.

"As in the horse." Rodney held out his tablet, showing John a photo of a brownish grey statue of a horse with massive wheels.

"Ah." John nodded. "It's _inside_ the horse. Frightfully clever."

Rodney shrugged. "Didn't say they were smart."

"Was Marks able to replace it?"

"Nope. It's lead."

"Lead?"

"The statue. There's no visible opening."

John frowned. "Then how did they get it in there?"

Rodney made a face. "How the hell should I know?"

"How do we make the switch?"

"That is the $50,000 question."

John stuck his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight. "Can we beam it out?"

"What part about lead did you not hear?"

"Oh. Right." John nodded. Then he blinked. "And that's because…"

"Superman? Kryptonite? Super secret powers do _not_ work through the stuff? And neither does Asguard beaming technology when it comes to removing a pop-bottle from a pumpkin."

"A pop…" John shook his head and killed the thought.

"Maybe we can have Marks cut it out?" Rodney asked hopefully.

"I think the 300 guests might notice the blowtorch." He threaded his arms across his chest and frowned.

"Ah." Rodney crossed his arms, and mimicked John's pose. "Touché."

"Although…" John said after a few moments.

"What?" Rodney watched him cautiously. "You've got that look again."

"_Do_ you have a blowtorch?" John turned towards the scientist.

"Yup. In the garage right between the band-saw and the air compressor." Rodney nodded enthusiastically. Then he shook his head. "No, I don't have a blowtorch."

John scowled.

"But engineering should."

John rolled his eyes and exhaled with a snort. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" He turned on his heel and headed into the hallway.

"You didn't ask if _engineering_ had one…" Rodney called after him. "You asked if _I_ had one..."

John stuck his head back around the corner. "You coming?"

"Hmm? What? Oh. Right. Yes. Of course." Rodney nodded, grabbing his tablet and hurrying after the disappearing Colonel.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note:** Okay this chapter gave me a really, really tough time! I fought with it, and fought with GLENN, but it's finally done. It's all fluff, but it does carry a purpose. The drama is about to kick up a notch, so don't let this smooth ride fool you. - Nika_

* * *

The longer Jen sat, alone, watching the couples on the dance floor, the more she thought about dancing. She tried to remember the last time she'd ever been to a dance… a real dance… and she couldn't. Her friend Maggie's wedding five years ago?

Wow, that was really sad.

She dropped her elbows to the table and propped her chin on the back of her hand, promptly jabbing herself with the diamond she forgot she was wearing. She laughed. It was a sad day when she'd _forget_ she was wearing a ring the size of Texas on her hand – a wedding ring to be exact.

_And speaking of, where was that husband of hers_… she smiled to herself. If she wanted to dance with someone, well, husbands were good for that much at least. And, she supposed, a husband with arms like Evan's… dancing certainly came to mind. As did a few other things…

Jen shook her head abruptly, slapping down her overactive and underused libido. This was not the time, nor the place, to be thinking about her dinner companion's arms. Or… well… any other body part.

She sighed and stared at the people swaying in soft circles around the floor.

Just one dance?

She looked through the crowd, wondering if she could spot him. If he wasn't busy. They had a few minutes yet… He'd returned from talking with Agent Ryan, dropped off her cranberry juice then immediately left again to track down Marks. With the dim lighting and the sea of matching black tuxedos, she searched, and searched, and gave up.

She needed to be taller.

Standing up, she hurried through the tables towards stairs leading up to the balcony. Maybe if she had a better vantage point? She'd almost made it to the bottom step when a hand reached her elbow.

"What's wrong?" Evan asked quickly.

Jen turned, blinked, stared, and threw out the last piece of common sense she ever owned. She grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the couples swaying to the soft orchestral music.

"Jen?"

She glanced over her shoulder, almost laughing at his confused expression.

"I want to dance." She said, pulling him through the dancers to an open spot in the middle.

"You…" Evan stammered.

_Oh shit. _

"Dance." She stopped and turned towards him. "With you. You know. Boy. Girl. Music. You do know how to dance?"

"Yes… well, of course… but…"

"Good." She teased. "Then dance with your wife, Mr. Lorne."

Evan stalled, looking around for something, anything to save him. Dance. Dance equaled bad. Dance equaled touching. Now dinner. Dinner had been safe. Simple. With the distraction of the conversation, the food, the other people, he'd been able to forget the dress. Forget how stunning she looked _in_ the dress. Forget that her hair smelled like vanilla. Forget the way her eyes sparkled as she tried to see everything, take in everything. Forget the adorable hesitation as she fretted over which piece of silverware to use.

But there was nothing out here on the dance floor to distract him except _her_.

"Just one song." She asked, her face hopeful. "I promise not to step on your toes. I haven't danced in years. Come on. Please?"

Lord help him, he should be saying no, but his head started nodding the minute she said _please_.

Jen smiled brightly and put her hand on his shoulder. "Arms go around me, flyboy."

He reached for her free hand, then slid his other arm around her waist. When his hand met soft, silky smooth, bare skin, he jerked and pulled it back, tried to place it in a different spot where his fingers feathered across more skin, tried a third time, and eventually settled on using his fingertips. And even that was torture.

Silk in front, bare skin in back, and likely nothing on underneath. He'd done a damn good job of blocking it all out while she'd been sitting down during dinner, because her naked backside was out of his line of sight. But now… good lord she was going to kill him.

"Evan." Jen laughed and leaned back so she could see his face. "What are you doing?"

He stared at her, swearing he heard the door slam as his brain walked out on him. "I can't… it's… I just… that dress… there's no way to hold you without… touching…" _skin. _

He let the last word drop.

And with it, so did her smile.

"You… don't want to dance with me… because you'd have to… touch me?"

Evan blinked, unable to comprehend anything other than the sudden realization that his words had made her eyes look so sad.

She dropped her hand and turned away.

"Jen." He grabbed her arm and pulled her back around, replaying exactly what he'd said and kicking himself for being such an idiot. "I… No… Wait."

"It's fine." She said quickly, her face stony. She looked everywhere but at him. "I understand."

"No, you don't." He said quickly, trying to pull her closer.

She stood stiffly in front of him, her arms at her side, looking at a spot somewhere to his left. She looked down at herself and smiled sadly. "It's okay Evan. I told you I don't _do_ these kinds of events. I just got a little carried away. I'm sorry."

"No." He said, scrambling to find a way to fix what he'd just broken. "Jen. I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean." She finally looked at him, and he felt a knot in his chest to see the hurt in her eyes.

He shook his head and tried to think of the most tactful way of explaining what the thought of running his hand across the soft smooth skin of her backside, while she danced in his arms, was doing to his nether regions.

But when he opened his mouth, all he could manage was... "It's just you in that dress…"

"Again with the dress…" Jen exhaled.

She turned away and he pulled her back around, but this time he stepped into her, locking his arms around her. He splayed his hands against the bare of her back and held her firmly against his chest.

"I wasn't finished."

"Yeah." She nodded, standing stiffly in his arms. "You were. You hate the dress and don't want to touch me. How much more finished do you need to be?"

"I _love_ the dress." He growled. "And that… _that_ is the problem."

Jen rolled her eyes. "Would you make up your mind?"

"I have." He looked into her face, seeing confusion and hurt, wanting very much to have the smile back, to see the sparkle she'd had in her eyes when she'd dragged him out here. Knowing he needed to be the one to give it back because he'd been the one to take it away. But what he wanted to say was so far over the line of inappropriate he'd never be able to take it back.

Ever.

She looked down, then turned her head away, and he was lost.

Taking a deep breath, he jumped into the abyss. "If I thought I had even an ice cube's chance in hell with you… I'd take you back to the hotel and show you - very, _very_ slowly - _exactly_ what it is that I want to do to you, all because you're wearing that damn dress."

Her head turned back around, her eyes piercing his. He held his breath, and let his hands drop away, giving her freedom. She was either going to slap him, or walk away, and he'd have to let her do either.

But she didn't move.

So, neither did he.

Evan knew the precise moment she realized just what it was he was implying, because her face turned several shades of scarlet, and her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth.

Yet she didn't look away.

"Oh." She finally whispered.

"Yeah." He exhaled.

She stood in front of him, not moving, and not blinking.

"If?" She finally said.

He shook his head. "If what?"

"You said… if." The directness of her gaze held him frozen.

"I did?"

She nodded, once. "_If_ you had a chance." Then she blinked. "Why did you say _if_… and not… _when_."

"When." He repeated.

She nodded again.

"_When…_ is not an option." He said firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because a woman like you does _not_ deserve a _when_."

"And what…" She hesitated, holding her fingers in the air before lightly placing her palm against his shoulder. "Does a… _woman like me_… deserve?" Her eyes narrowed, but a small smile edged the corner of her mouth. "And I would be very careful how you answer that, if I were you."

Evan took her tiny smile for the lifeline it was, and stepped closer. He slid one hand in behind her back, and clasped their free hands together. With a turn he led her slowly around to the music. The fall he was taking was going to end with an incredibly painful splat, but if he was going to go out, he may as well do it full throttle.

"You, Jennifer Keller," he said quietly, placing his mouth next to her ear. "Are an incredibly beautiful woman who deserves these kinds of dresses and outrageously expensive jewelry. Castles and fairytales. With the kind of true heart that makes a man want white picket fences and porch swings. You're not a when. You're a forever. And that is precisely why _when_ is not an option."

Jen stopped moving, stopped dancing, and stopped breathing, under the single thought that slammed through her body.

That had to be the most amazing, most spectacularly romantic thing, she had ever heard in her entire life.

And _he'd_ said it… _to her_. For her. About her.

She raised her head and looked into his eyes - those amazing blue eyes which were watching her with such intensity she was having a hard time concentrating.

But he'd said… _if_.

"You don't think you deserve forever." She stated, wrapping his own words around the question that suddenly popped into her head.

"Forever." He started to smile, and shook his head. "Career military, Jen. Incredibly dangerous, and, one of the highest divorce rates. Not worth forever when you don't even know if you're coming back tonight. When all you have to offer is a set of dog-tags she can brag to her friends about… Well, let's just say that by the time Monday morning hits… Guys like me don't get forever."

Jen inhaled sharply, not bothering to hide her frown. "Whoever she is, I hope she gains three-hundred pounds and goes prematurely bald."

"Who?"

"The woman who put that idea into your head."

"Put what idea?"

"The idea that you don't deserve… _forever_. That has to be the stupidest thing I think I've ever heard you say."

"Ouch…" He started to smile, then blinked in surprise when he saw the look on her face. "Wow. You're really angry."

"Damn right I'm angry!" She nodded, her voice quick and harsh, heat fueling her words. "You want to know what I think?" She pulled back from him and dropped her hands to her hips. Not waiting for an answer she continued on with her verbal tirade. "Well _I_ think that you are an amazing man. Strong, sexy, incredibly intelligent. You talk about castles and fairytales? Well you, Evan Lorne, are a knight in shining tactical armor and any woman who's too stupid to see that never deserved you in the first place. There's absolutely no reason you can't have an if, when, forever… whatever you want to call it… and I don't give a flying fig about dog-tags or… or… Monday mornings." She finished by poking him hard in the chest.

Evan stared.

He couldn't do anything _but_ stare.

_She'd just called him sexy._

Blurred between the motion of dancers around them, they stood in the middle of the floor, unmoving, unblinking. Jen's face flushed and she dropped her hands, letting them hang loosely at her sides.

"Did I just…" Jen started to say.

"Yeah." Evan answered, taking a very purposeful, half step forward. "You did."

"And… you just?" She looked suddenly ready to bolt.

Evan grabbed for her, pulling her into his arms. "Yeah. I did."

"So…" She exhaled, slumping into him.

"So…" He answered, feeling her fingers gripping his shoulder as his hand pressed firmly against her lower back.

"You think I'm beautiful?" She asked softly.

"Well, you think I'm sexy." He countered, grinning when she turned red and hid her face against his shoulder. When she started to shake, Evan leaned back quickly, afraid she was – god forbid - crying, and was shocked when she lifted her head in laughter.

"I'm sorry." She shook her head. "Apparently, I've completely lost my mind."

"And it took mine along with it." He said quietly.

Jen sighed and leaned forward, letting him pull her closer.

"So." He whispered against her ear. "What are we supposed to do now?"

She stopped dancing again, and he felt her fingers tighten against his shoulder. He watched the smile slowly fade from her face, and his chest tightened when her eyes dropped slowly to his mouth.

"I think you're supposed to kiss me." She whispered.

"You do, huh." He leaned closer.

She nodded.

"Why?" He asked, inching lower.

"Because."

"Just because?"

She nodded again.

"Is that an order?" He asked.

"Do you need it to be?"

His nose was almost touching hers. She tilted her head oh so slightly.

"I always follow orders."

"Then kiss me." She said, her breath mingling with his. "And that's an order."

"Yes ma'am." He exhaled, dropping the final distance.

.

.

.

* * *

_Author's Note.... OKAY! Now that we've established the Lady likes the Knight, and the fearless Knight likes the Lady, it's time to put our damsel in distress and give our rescue heroes somethig to do! Onward!_


	9. Chapter 9

Evan's lips hovered a breaths distance from hers, when a voice jumped between them, and Jen leapt back with a squeak. Evan's head shot up, filled with the intent to strangle, maim, kill who ever had the god-awful plan to interrupt.

"Get a room…" Marks taunted out of the corner of his mouth as he brushed past them, moving slowly through the dancers. The yellow lettered security patch was easily visible on the sleeve of his black shirt. He adjusted his belt and nodded at Evan, giving him an I-know-what-you-were-doing sneer. "Phone call." He added as he moved by, weaving through the crowd and disappearing.

Jen groaned and dropped her forehead onto Evan's shoulder. "I could go stab him…" She offered.

"Tempting." Evan grinned, glancing at the Athosian sticks crossed through the back of her hair. "But it would mess up your hair."

"Not necessarily." She lifted her head slowly, "I do have _two_…"

"Come on." Evan smiled, lifting Jen's hand and leading her off the dance floor. He maneuvered them through the tables, heading in the opposite direction Marks had gone. "We've got fifteen minutes until the auction."

"Where are we going?" She asked, following him through the room, weaving around people and chairs.

"Someplace secluded." He said over his shoulder.

"To do… what…. exactly…" Jen raised an eyebrow.

He glanced over his shoulder, and the dark, intense look he gave her sent a shiver right down to her toes. She stumbled.

He grabbed her arm and steadied her with a slow grin. "Trouble walking, Mrs. Lorne?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not as long as you quit looking at me like that, Mr. Lorne."

"Looking at you like what?" He said innocently.

"Like I'm naked."

Evan toed the leg of a chair and stagger stepped, then quickly straightened. He exhaled sharply and glared at her.

Jen blinked, then smiled innocently. "Problem walking, Mr. Lorne?"

He shook his head and kept going, with Jen's light laughter following behind him. He led her to towards the black, curtained walls that hid the auction items. After a quick survey, he chose a narrow alcove, set back between a pair of sculpted marble statues. He pulled her into the shadowed opening, tucking her in against the wall. "Put your arms around me." He ordered quietly, his eyes roaming the room to make sure no one was paying them any undo attention.

Jen blinked.

Evan looked towards her and laughed at her expression. "_You_ … have a dirty mind." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a com. "I need to whisper sweet nothing's into your ear."

"Kinky." Jen snorted, but complied, lifting her arms up around his neck.

Evan hooked the com over his ear and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her against him, snuggling them both into the corner. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, nuzzling her ear, making her shiver.

"Behave." She whispered.

He grinned against her neck. "You're the one who ordered me to kiss you…"

"Yeah… well…." She muttered. "I'm rescinding."

"You smell good." He admitted.

Jen snorted. "It's called soap."

Evan shook his head with a laugh, then triggered the com. "Daedalus this is Major Lorne."

"This is Colonel Caldwell, Major." Came the immediate reply. "We've located the container but removing it is going to be an issue. Dr. McKay has a solution but we're going to need a distraction."

"Distraction?" Evan frowned.

"We're beaming the entire unit to engineering, swapping the containers, then beaming it back."

"Understood." Evan nodded, then abruptly shuddered when Jen kissed the side of his neck.

"We have company." She whispered, sliding her fingers into his hair.

Evan lifted his head slightly, catching sight of the security guard weaving his way towards their end of the room, about to make his rounds through the display area.

"How much of a distraction?" Evan asked.

"Dr. McKay says three minutes." Caldwell's answer chirped in his ear.

"How soon?"

"_Now_, would be good."

"Tell McKay he has his distraction." Evan watched the guard's approach. The man hadn't seen them yet, which would work in their favor. "Have him standing by and await my signal."

"Excellent. Caldwell, out."

Evan reached up and pulled the com out of his ear, dropping it back into his pocket. "We need to create a diversion."

"A diversion?" Jen blinked.

He angled his head towards the security guard. "We need to keep him out from behind the curtain for three minutes so McKay can switch the containers."

"How?"

"I'll think of something." He said, moving forward. "Stay here."

"No, wait." She grabbed for his arm. "You just need him distracted for a couple of minutes?"

He nodded.

"I'll do it." She took a step forward.

"Like hell you will." Evan hooked her arm and pulled her back.

"He's not your type."

"What?" Evan frowned, watching as the man stopped to wait for an older couple to settle into their chairs before moving forward again.

"Trust me." She said quickly. "You said it yourself. This dress is awfully distracting."

"I said… Whoa, whoa, now wait just a minute!"

"I'll be fine. You make sure no one else comes by. Just tell McKay to hurry." She stepped away and turned, making a beeline for the security guard, the sparkling buckles that were holding the too-tiny backside together glinting as she walked.

Evan cursed… then cursed again. Damn strong headed woman. And damn that dress. He tucked the com over his ear and hid his face in the shadows, his eyes never losing sight of Jen.

"Colonel, tell McKay he has his three minutes, starting now."

"Thank you, Major." Caldwell answered.

* * *

"Laser torch?" John frowned. "What's to keep it from slicing right through the container, too?"

Sergeant Davis shook his head and held up a small, thin, tube, roughly two inches in diameter, with a narrow control panel cut into one side. "Won't cut through walls but it will slice through metal up to a width of 3/4 inches. And we're able to regulate the depth of the beam based on the chemical compound it's cutting through. As long as the container inside isn't partially made of lead as well…" He looked at McKay for confirmation.

"Ancient biotech. No lead." Rodney shook his head.

"And we can reseal it?" John asked.

"Without any visible traces." Davis nodded.

"Colonel Sheppard, you have your distraction." Colonel Caldwell's voice cracked in John's ear.

"Understood." John answered. "Beam it directly to engineering."

John, Rodney, and Davis moved towards the workbench in the middle of the room.

John glanced down at his watch. "You'll have exactly three minutes, Sergeant."

Davis nodded. "Understood, Sir."

With a flash of white, a large, replica horse with large, distinguishable wheels in place of hooves, appeared on the table. The metal was dark, almost black, the surface dull and scratched.

Davis immediately stepped forward, attaching a small, suction cupped hook to the side of the statue. With a nod, he slipped on a pair of tinted goggles and triggered the laser. A short, red beam extended from the end. He made a minor adjustment and the beam narrowed and shortened, darkening to a burgandy hue. With a slow, precise movement, he cut a large straight line through the metal along the side of the horse's belly.

"Two thirty." John glanced at his watch.

Davis nodded, and made a second incision, then a third, slowly completing the edge of a large rectangle. He shut the laser off and set it on the table. Reaching for the hook that was attached to the horse's side, he wriggled and pulled, lifting the piece away.

"One fifty-five." John announced.

Rodney stepped forward and reached inside the statue, angling his hands in to lift out a large, silver container. "Gotcha." He said, turning to set the containment unit on a table by the wall. Picking up the replacement, he returned to the horse, and slid the backup inside.

"One thirty five." John called out.

Davis stepped forward and gently reset the missing piece. He picked up the laser, making a calculation on the control panel which turned the beam to a short, wide, shining blue, then he proceeded to painstakingly reseal the edges.

"Twenty seconds." John counted down.

Davis edged the fourth side and shut off the laser. "Done." He raised the goggles to his forehead.

John leaned over and examined the side of the horse. "Nicely done, Sergeant."

Davis nodded.

Rodney stepped forward, a tiny transmitter in his palm. "And for the grand finale…" He leaned right over the surface of the table, and attached the transmitter to the underside of one of the giant wheels. "Voila." He straightened. "We're good to go."

"We're done, Colonel." John said into his com. "Send it back."

"Understood." Caldwell's voice clipped as the statue disappeared.

* * *

"Major Lorne, this is Colonel Caldwell. We've made the switch."

"So we're good?" Evan straightened, straining to see the doors to the main lobby.

"We're good." Caldwell announced. "Dr. McKay has confirmed the transmitter signal. We have co-ordinates, and live audio on the statue. See Dr. Keller back to the hotel and contact us once you've arrived."

"Roger, that."

"Daedalus, out."

Evan unhooked the com and dropped it back into the pocket of his jacket, making a beeline for the lobby to find Jen.

While he'd spent a long, agonizing, three minutes standing in a dim alcove, she'd somehow convinced the security guard to leave the room with her. Evan had no idea what she'd said to the man, but it hadn't taken her more than ten seconds to have the guy following her like a lost puppy.

Damn dress.

He hit the lobby and searched past the piano bar, around the fountain, scanning the crowd of boisterous groups who were schmoozing amongst the artwork and statues.

It took her three minutes to disappear, and nearly eight minutes to find her, and only because he recognized her laughter. Heading past one of the massive statues, he turned towards a hallway signed Staff Only, and caught a flash of blue as she entered the corridor from the far end, shadowed by the burly security guard.

Jen smiled and waved, and Evan moved quickly down the hallway to intercept.

"There you are." He said, sliding in beside her.

Jen hooked her arm around Evan's waist and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Sorry." She said quickly, settling in against his shoulder. "Christopher, this is Evan. Evan… Christopher." She said with a smile, making introductions.

Evan shook the man's outstretched hand.

Jen smiled and held up her index finger, now sporting a band-aid. "Christopher was kind enough to point me in the direction of the first aid kit, and get me a band-aid."

"What'd you do?" Evan frowned.

"Paper cut." She said sheepishly. "You know me… never a dull moment."

"Wouldn't want to get any blood on that lovely dress." Christopher said with a smile.

Jen laughed. "Does Carol know you're such a flirt?"

Christopher shook his head and grinned. "Why do you think she married me in the first place?"

"Honey, maybe we should let the man get back to his work?" Evan suggested, wondering just how Jen managed to get on a first name basis - and obtain a life history – so quickly. Instead he just smiled and guided Jen out of the hallway and into the lobby.

"Oh, yes, of course!" Jen laughed, then apologized to the guard. "I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't keep you from your… rounds… to long."

"It's fine." He shrugged. "All in a day's work."

Jen pointed at him. "Now you remember to tell Carol what I said."

The man nodded and patted the front pocket on his jacket. "Got your instructions right here."

"Good." She smiled, and with her arm still wrapped around Evan's waist, stepped out of the way.

"Have a good night, folks." Christopher gave them a polite wave, and headed across the lobby and back into the main dining room.

"Christopher?" Evan said with a smirk.

She laughed, then shook her head. "People find out you're a doctor and they can't talk fast enough. His wife has insomnia and their HMO won't cover her meds. I just gave him a few recommendations... some holistic options."

"And here I thought you were stepping out on me."

Jen laughed, and pulled away, performing a quick spin on her heels. "You don't think I wore this just for _your _benefit, did you?"

Evan rolled his eyes. "You're not going to let me forget that, are you."

"Nope." She shook her head, then her smile dropped and she leaned closer. "Did everything… work out?"

Evan nodded, and walked with her across the lobby, his voice low in her ear. "McKay made the switch."

"So now what?" She asked.

"Now… I take Cinderella back to the hotel, and make sure she doesn't turn into a pumpkin."

"Cinderella?" Jen smirked. "But it's not midnight, and I still have both my shoes."

"Come on." He laughed, pulling her towards the courtesy phone in the lobby. He made a quick call to the limo driver and arranged for the car to meet them out front. Heading towards large glass doors leading to the street, he reached for her hand, holding up her band-aid wrapped index finger. "Paper cut?"

"It was the best I could come up with on such short notice."

"You didn't _really_ give yourself a paper cut, did you?" He asked, releasing her hand to guide her out the door and into the cool night air.

"No." Jen shook her head, then shrugged. "Actually, I stabbed myself with one of my earrings."

Evan snorted, angling his head to look closer at the small diamond studs that decorated her ears. "Really?"

She nodded.

He gave her an appreciative stare. "Very inventive." Then he crooked his arm out and she placed her hands around it.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" She blinked, walking with him down the large, stone steps to the sidewalk. "Didn't think I was smart enough to come up with a viable distraction?"

"Well I didn't exactly marry you for your brains…" Evan whispered in her ear, then had to grab her hands so she couldn't whack him.

Jen gasped. "Oh that is so going to cost you."

"Yeah, yeah." He laughed, wigging his eyebrows. He walked backwards, leading her towards stretch limo pulling up to the curb. "Promises, promises."

.

.

.

_Author's Note: 'Come on.... you didn't think I was gonna let him kiss her yet, did ya? :P Don't worry. I have a feeling the night isn't quite over yet. - Nika_


	10. Chapter 10

With her palms on the railing, Jen stared out across the lights of downtown Washington. They'd retreated to the anonymity of their hotel suite to wait for the others to arrive. Agent Marks would be arriving as soon as the auction was completed and the statue earmarked for its new owner. Agent Ryan would most likely arrive sooner, his posting as a fake bartender ending with last call, and Colonel Sheppard was due to arrive any moment, courtesy of the Daedalus.

As it stood, the auction would be over in less than an hour, and from there, the statue would be on the move, it's dummy contents hopefully taking them closer to finding the initial thief.

It bothered Jen that someone on the inside, someone in Atlantis, someone she knew, and talked to, and possibly even worked directly with could be willing to trade hundreds, potentially thousands of lives – for money. Although she couldn't believe anyone on her staff would be capable of such an atrocity, she couldn't rule it out. If there was one thing she'd learned being in Pegasus… nothing was ever what it seemed, and nothing was ever simple.

For now, their traitor had managed to steal a container of Wraith enzyme… but would it stop there?

She shivered, and scrunched her toes, the bottoms of her bare feet stinging on the cold cement patio. She crossed her arms over her front, then jumped with a gasp when warm cloth suddenly landed against her shoulders.

"Sorry." Evan apologized as he straightened his jacket around her. The bowtie was now hanging loosely around his neck, and he'd undone the top buttons of his shirt.

She gave him a slight smile and flicked the end of the hanging bowtie with her index finger. "Didn't take you long to lose the tie."

"Like wearing a noose."

She laughed softly, but it wasn't heartfelt.

"You okay?" He asked with a slight frown, helping her thread her arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Yeah." She nodded. "I was just… thinking." She stared down at the length of material completely covering her hands, then smiled to see how far down her hips it dropped.

"Sounds serious." He said, turning to lean against the railing.

Jen stared at his broad back and shoulders, the leather bands of the double holster sharply contrasting the bright white of his shirt. The tuxedo and the guns. The contradiction, coupled with the way the muscles in his shoulder's moved as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, made her feel a lot warmer than she should have been under the cover of his jacket alone.

They'd stepped over a line tonight.

Somehow, the glass walls that once stood between them were now useless and shattered, and the flirt-but-don't-touch rule had been tossed to the wayside. Jen knew it was the evening, the dinner, the tux, and the dress, but she found herself hoping… no, praying… that the walls weren't replaced when they returned to Atlantis. She had a feeling she wasn't going to be able to put hers back up anyway. Evan, she wasn't so sure about, but for herself, it would be almost impossible.

She didn't want to go back to the way it was. She wanted to find out about the way it could be.

Their forever conversation replayed in her mind and she felt herself blushing to think of how close she'd come to making out with him in the middle of the dance floor. Then she thought about how it would have been horribly inappropriate and really bad timing. But then she had to wonder what it would have been like, and that lead right back around to his comment about her dress and she was suddenly feeling very, very… unsure and inadequate. Even if he did think she was beautiful, in a forever kind of way.

But forever wasn't something that would come so long as Atlantis was the gatekeeper, and the only protector standing between the Wraith, and the holy-grail of feeding grounds – Earth.

If the Wraith ever discovered Earth's location… Jen shuddered to think of what else their traitor had revealed.

"You sure you're okay?" Evan asked, glancing over his shoulder and breaking into her thoughts.

Pulling the edges of the jacket closed around her like a robe, she stepped forward and joined him at the railing, their shoulders almost touching. They stared into the night, watching the city spread out beneath them, before she eventually broke the silence.

"I can't figure out who could possibly think this whole thing was a good idea." She admitted quietly, leaning over the railing to watch the flow of traffic on the street below.

Evan shook his head, and stared up into the sky. "Whoever it was, obviously wasn't thinking. They had to know we'd figure out the container was missing, eventually. And if they know enough about Atlantis and the SGC to take it in the first place, they would also have to know we'd stop at nothing to prevent them from succeeding."

The sound of her soft sigh pulled at Evan's heart. He turned towards her, the sad, worried, look on her face making his chest tight.

"Hey." He frowned, reaching for her. "What's wrong?"

She stepped forward, her arms locking tightly around his waist. He felt the pull of her need for contact and tugged her tightly against his chest. She bent her head and tucked herself against him. Without the added height from her heels, she seemed smaller. More delicate. Fragile. He knew it wasn't the truth, she hid an incredible strength behind that small frame, but he also couldn't help but wonder if maybe she shouldn't be here. She was a doctor, not a trained operative. He tucked her head under his chin and stared up into the night.

"What if they don't stop there?" She asked softly. "What if the enzyme is just the beginning? What if-"

"Jen." He adjusted his hands, tightening his grip around her. "There's no reason to think they've given up Earth's location. We've had no records of any transmissions, and no indication from any of our external resources to the contrary. We're looking at a black market sale, pure and simple. Okay?"

Jen nodded slowly, hearing the truth in his words. She sighed and let herself relax into him, his strength and warmth seeping in beneath the tension. She hadn't realized how much the night's blocking had gotten to her. She'd managed to push everything aside – Franks, Wilsher, the enzyme – but at a cost. And with a huge yawn, Jen realized she was absolutely exhausted. Mentally and physically.

She felt Evan's chest moving before the laughter escaped.

"Am I boring you?" He asked.

"Nope. I'm good." She shook her head slowly, and adjusted her head against his shoulder. "I'm just going to have a little nap."

"Right here?"

"Mmm." She nodded. "You're warm."

"I, personally, have absolutely no issue with that…" He whispered over the top of her head. "But the Colonel might."

"Colonel?" She muttered.

"Damn, Major… now this is what I call a hotel room." John's voice carried out through the open patio doors.

Jen gasped and jumped back. John walked onto the balcony in time to see her swat Evan across the shoulder.

"He giving you trouble, Doc?" The Colonel grinned.

Jen felt her face heating and she stumbled over her words. "I… no… yes… I'm just…" A knock sounded at the door and she stepped towards the inside of the door. "Going to answer the door."

"That'll be Agent Ryan." John called over his shoulder as he moved to the edge of the balcony to look out over the city. "Nice view."

"It's passable." Evan shrugged.

"So… how was dinner?" John glanced sideways at Evan, then turned to watch Jen and Ryan chatting just inside the doorway.

Ryan had changed out of his bartender's outfit and back into his suit. Whatever story he was telling Jen had her laughing. Evan made a face, staring at the two of them. He was suddenly damn glad he'd given Jen his jacket. He'd set it on her cold shoulders for a bigger reason than being a nice guy – a purely selfish reason actually – because the jacket was so big on her it hid just about everything except the slit up the back.

"Fine." Evan finally answered. "Dinner was fine."

"Hmm." John raised his eyebrow. "That all?"

Evan narrowed his gaze. "What."

John shook his head, not bothering to hide his smirk. "Nothing."

"So, what's the plan?" Evan changed the topic.

John took the hint and turned towards the Major. "The transmitter McKay used will give us the statue's location, as well as a constant audio feed. As soon as the auction is over, our guy Franks will hopefully take it home, crack it open, and find himself with one very expensive piece of nothing. Depending on who he calls and what he does after finding out he's been double crossed will hopefully lead us to the source. Then it's just a matter of dropping in and cleaning it all up."

"Sounds easy enough."

John snorted. "With McKay and Keller here? We'll be lucky if we can make it through the next ten minutes without something going catastrophically wrong."

Evan couldn't hold back the smile. The man did have a point.

The sharp chirp of a cell phone had Agent Ryan digging into the pocket of his suit jacket. Jen stepped away, moving out of view, and Ryan walked slowly towards the balcony doors.

"What do you mean he's gone?" The expression on the Agent's face was not a happy one, and his sharp tone had both John and Evan watching him intently. "Tell him to keep his distance. We don't want to lose him." Ryan ordered, his tone clipped. "No, I'm at the hotel with Colonel Sheppard and Major Lorne. As soon as you have a location, call me." He dropped the phone from his ear.

"Franks left."

"Left?" Evan frowned.

Ryan nodded. "Half-way through the auction, he excused himself and headed for the men's room. Never returned to his table. One of our guys was parked on his limo. We're following it now."

A knock sounded at the door, and Jen called out she'd get it.

"That should be Marks." Ryan called out to her.

"What about the container?" John asked.

"Still there." Ryan angled his head. "We're leaving two agents on it in case we're looking at some kind of bait and switch."

"We follow Franks while someone else takes the container?" Evan surmised.

"Possible." The Agent admitted. "That's why we're watching both."

"Sheppard!" Rodney's voice sounded from the living room.

"McKay?" John frowned, turning towards the patio doors.

"We've got a problem." Rodney rushed onto the balcony.

"Yeah we know." John nodded. "Franks left without taking the container."

"Franks... what? No... no." Rodney shook his head and dropped his tablet onto one of the deck chairs. "It's empty."

"The statue?" Evan frowned.

"No, the container." Rodney answered.

"I thought you filled it with ball-bearings?" John shook his head, confused.

"Not that container," Rodney held out the one he'd carried with him. "This container."

"It's empty?" John frowned, watching as Rodney released the seal, and lifted the top off the container. The scientist then made a dramatic show of dumping it upside down and shaking it violently. "See? Empty!"

"Where's the enzyme?" Evan took the container and stared into the hollow, empty inside.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you." Rodney shook his head. "Gone. Missing. Not inside. Not there in the first place!"

"Well then what the hell happened to it?!" John exclaimed.

"I don't know!" Rodney shrugged dramatically. "I was going to put the enzyme into one of the medical storage units on the Daedalus, but the container's the wrong size. I opened it up to transfer the vial and poof – no enzyme!"

"Did someone else remove it?" Agent Ryan asked.

Rodney shook his head. "It hasn't been out of my sight since we cut it out of the statue."

"Shit!" John cursed, as a knock sounded on the door in the living room.

"Someone double crossed our double cross?" Evan asked.

John angled his head and looked expectantly at Agent Ryan. "If Franks knew it wasn't there to begin with, that would explain why he left early."

"Left early?" Rodney looked from Evan, to John, to Ryan.

Ryan quickly re-explained Frank's departure from the auction.

"Then why go in the first place?" Rodney asked.

A repeat knock on the door.

John angled his head to see into the main room. "Doc?" He called out.

No answer.

"Are we sure he's the one we're after?" Rodney asked.

Agent Ryan nodded. "Oh we're sure, all right. But a guy like Franks doesn't get as far as he has without being incredibly cautious. We know who and what he is, but we've never been able to directly tie him to anything."

Evan followed John across the patio when another knock sounded up front, this time with more force.

"Doc?" John called again, moving towards the door.

Evan turned towards Jen's half of the suite, her door still standing open. Maybe she'd gone to change. But… why was her door still open. He stuck his head into her room. "Jen?"

No answer.

He glanced over his shoulder as John let Agent Marks in.

Evan stepped into Jen's room, eyeing the open bathroom door. "Jen?" He called again. When there was no response he checked both the bathroom, and the bedroom area, but she wasn't there. He left her room and made a beeline for his.

Empty.

He stepped into the main area, an uneasy tension knotting his chest. "Where's Jen?"

Sheppard, Ryan, and Marks shook their heads.

"I don't know." Rodney shrugged. "She wasn't here when I beamed down."

"Wait." John stepped in front of the scientist. "Beamed down? You didn't knock at the door?"

Rodney snorted. "Why would I knock when I was already inside the room?"

"If you didn't knock…" John frowned…

"Then who did?" Evan finished.

John looked at Evan, and both men rushed to the door. Ripping it open, they stepped into the hallway. Glancing left, then right, there was nothing but empty corridor.

Each man ran in opposite directions, checking the stairwell and the elevator bay. Returning to the middle, they both shared the same worried and concerned look.

"So, where is she?" Rodney stepped into the hallway.

John pushed past him and back into the room, reaching for his com. "Daedalus this is Colonel Sheppard. Can you locate Dr. Keller's transmitter?"

Evan reached for his own com, then realized with a groan it was still in the front pocket of his jacket. The jacket Jen was wearing.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Colonel Caldwell. We're not picking up Dr. Keller's transmitter. Is something wrong?"

John stared directly at Evan. "What do you mean you're not picking it up?"

Rodney cursed, and Evan suddenly found it a lot harder to breathe.

"You're not picking it up in the hotel?" John clarified.

"Negative." Caldwell replied. "We're not picking it up on the _continent_. What the hell's going on? Where's Dr. Keller?"

"Shit." John cursed. He turned to Marks and Ryan. "This hotel have security cameras?"

Marks nodded. "Every corridor, stairwell, elevator, and public access area."

"Colonel, the minute you get a lock on Dr. Keller, beam her directly to the bridge." John said to Caldwell, then he looked at Rodney. "Get back upstairs. Do what ever you need to do to get a lock on her transmitter."

Rodney nodded and rushed to the balcony to grab the empty container, requesting the Daedalus beam him back to his lab on the Daedalus.

Evan turned to Marks. "How fast can we see those tapes?"

"How fast can you get to the basement?" Marks turned towards the door and proceeded the others as they rushed into the hallway.


	11. Chapter 11

It took the four men just over five minutes to reach the security offices in the lower levels of the hotel. And to Evan, it was five minutes too long.

Agent Marks immediately commandeered the security office, gaining them access to video footage from all the cameras in the entire hotel complex. The young security guard seemed more than compliant with turning things over to the agents as soon as Marks and Ryan flashed their badges, and introduced the Colonel and the Major.

"The IOA owns the hotel." Marks answered John's quizzical look.

"What do you need, Sirs?" The young man asked, swiveling his chair around to face the bank of monitors in front of him.

"Footage from the north-west corridor, seventeenth floor." John ordered. "Last forty-five minutes."

With a few keystrokes, he pulled up the image of the hallway on the screen in front of him, the digital clock showing the scene from forty-five minutes earlier. The camera looked down from its vantage point high in the ceiling, portraying a sloped view of the entire corridor, ending with the stairwell doors at the far end.

They began scrolling through the footage, stopping every time someone appeared.

First up was a patron coming from the elevator bank and letting himself into a room down the hallway. Then, Evan and Jen walking down the hall, arm in arm, heading for the suite. Evan opening the door and holding it open for her. Fast forward to the arrival of Agent Ryan, then an elderly couple exiting their room and moving down the hallway towards the elevator bank.

"Stop." John ordered, pointing to three men exiting from the stairwell at the end of the corridor.

The first man was big and burly, at least three hundred pounds of solid bouncer. Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, he was gripping the upper arm of a young business man, and half dragging him down the hallway. Behind them followed a third man, tall and skinny, who was dressed in a dark suit, his hand tellingly tucked inside his suit jacket.

"Shit…" Ryan exhaled. "That's Christophe Kotko." He pointed to the bulky man. "Goon for hire. The guy would kill his own mother for a penny." Then he pointed to the skinny man. "Larry Rousseau. Franks' go-too guy."

Marks leaned closer and pointed to the young man in the gray business suit who was being urged down the hallway. As they watched the men on the video closing in on the door to the suite, Marks glanced of his shoulder towards Ryan.

"Is that Liam?"

Ryan stepped forward and squinted. "Sure as hell looks like him."

"Who's Liam?" John asked.

Evan joined the crowded group around the monitor. "Why does he look familiar?"

"You saw him this morning." Marks looked up sharply. "That's one of Director Wilsher's assistants."

Evan nodded, now recognizing the young man as the one who'd carried in the box of damaged hard-drives from the burnt out lab.

On the video, the trio stopped in the hallway just down from the door to the suite. Liam was talking animatedly – perhaps even pleading by the look of his arm movements, but his over-sized companion didn't seem impressed. A few short words from Kotko and Liam stilled and nodded, stepping back quickly when his arm was released.

Kotko walked past the double doors to the suite, then set himself against the wall. His skinny companion, Rousseau, took up the same position on the other side of the door, removed something small and black from his pocket, then nodded to Liam.

"Oh, hell." John muttered, immediately understanding what was about to happen.

After wiping his hands on the sides of his jacket, Liam knocked on the door.

At this point on the video, Evan was pretty sure no one in the security room was breathing.

When the door opened, they saw Liam step back, his hands moving while he spoke, then Jennifer stepped into the hallway. With a blur of movement, Kotko had his hand over her mouth while Rousseau jabbed the object he held against her side.

Evan felt his own body jerk in response to the image of Jen sandwiched between the two men, her body convulsing stiffly before crumpling. His heart stopped beating long enough for him to feel the slamming pain when it kicked in again.

"Oh god…" The young security guard exclaimed, rocking back in his chair. "Please tell me he didn't just…"

Evan didn't want the kid to complete the thought… or the sentence. He wouldn't… _couldn't_ let himself think anything other than the fact that she'd be just fine.

"Fuck…" John cursed, his hands tightly clenched at his sides while they watched Kotko toss Jennifer's limp form over his shoulder like she was nothing more than a sack of feed grain.

They all stared in silence as the large man quickly carried her down the hallway, while Rousseau dragged Liam along behind. It wasn't missed that Liam turned and stared pointedly up at the camera.

"He knows we're watching." Marks said with a frown.

"Here's the feed from the stairwell." The security guard switched the video, and after a few seconds, showed the group descending down to the tenth floor.

Rousseau entered the hallway, then returned a few moments later with a housekeeping bin filled with sheets or towels. Lifting several layers, he pulled out a large chunk of cloth, then stood aside as Kotko unceremoniously dumped Jennifer into the bin.

"Jeezus." Evan cursed, taking a step back, then forward again. His fingers rubbed the cutting pain he could feel in his chest.

Removing his leather jacket, Kotko dropped it into the bin right on top of Jennifer. Rousseau quickly covered her with the white towels, effectively burying her body.

Kotko then unrolled the cloth and stepped into a pair of gray coveralls. With a nod to his companions, he pushed the cart out into the hallway of the tenth floor. Liam and Rousseau continued on down the stairs.

"Follow Kotko." John ordered, clamping his hand down on the security guard's shoulder.

Several minutes later they had the entire scene played out. The bin was moved from the service elevator to the loading docks in the basement. Liam, after receiving an obvious verbal threat, ran off into the parking garage and got into a small, red hatchback. Rousseau met up with Kotko on the loading dock, where they wheeled the entire basket into a plain, white delivery van, and drove out into the street.

"Fuck." Evan exhaled, hoping to God they'd want her alive.

"I didn't see any blood." Ryan said quickly.

Evan swallowed hard and glanced towards the Agent.

Ryan pointed to the screen. "Whatever was in his hand? I don't think he shot her. There's no blood. A gunshot wound that close would have left a hell of a mess, and so would a knife."

"If they wanted her dead they wouldn't have hidden her and taken her away." Marks suggested, his tone unsure.

Evan's head swam with a mix of horror and relief. He knew he wasn't thinking clearly. He should have seen that himself. There _hadn't_ been any blood… but… then again… he'd seen weapons that could kill without leaving a mark.

His panic level shot right back up again.

He'd just found out that two years of verbal sparring might actually mean more to her than just words. He'd just found out that someone like her could really be for someone like him. He'd just found a treasure and someone had stolen it right out from under him. He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not like this. Not with so much left unknown and unsaid.

He clenched his fists and held them stiffly at his side, willing himself to breath. To concentrate. To bury the emotions. If they were going to find her – bring her back – he needed to keep a clear head. _She_ needed him to keep a clear head.

"Hang on." The security guard turned the screen back to the hallway shot, and after making some adjustments, zoomed into the object in Rousseau's hand. The room fell silent as he adjusted the image, looking for a clearer shot. He finally nodded. "I think it's a taser."

Evan didn't know whether or not he could breath yet. "You're sure?"

"Pretty sure." He pointed to the screen. "The image is grainy... but the size and shape is right."

John ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. "The charge might be enough to disrupt the transmitter. Would explain why we're not picking it up." He clamped his hand down on the security guard's shoulder. "I need a copy of this footage and everything you have on these guys, especially the kid…"

Marks nodded. "Liam Shannon."

"Shannon?" Evan frowned, and looked directly at John. "Isn't there a Lieutenant James Shannon..."

"Yeah." John nodded. "There is. Could be a coincidence."

"No coincidence." Marks said firmly. "Jamie Shannon is his older brother."

Evan cursed. One brother in Atlantis – accessing the enzyme. And another brother on Earth, involved in kidnapping Jennifer. They'd just found their traitor. Or in this case. Traitors. Plural.

John turned to Marks and Ryan, his face stony. "Get me that kid."

Ryan yanked his phone out of his pocket and called his office, ordering a BOLO on Liam Shannon and his little red hatchback.

Marks stepped towards John. "I'll get Dr. McKay access to the city wide cameras. If he's as good as you say he is, it shouldn't take him long to piece together which way they've gone."

"He's good enough not to need your access codes." John replied curtly.

The security guard swung around in his chair and held out a small USB jump drive. "All the footage for the entire complex for the last hour."

John nodded and dropped it into his pocket.

"I'll contact you as soon as we have anything." Marks said briskly, stepping out of the way.

John looked at Evan. "Major, it's time to go hunting."

* * *

After completing a fast run to the supply room, Evan hurried through the corridors on the Daedalus. Dressing in the familiar BDU's helped clear his mind and allowed him to compress everything save for the mission at hand.

"What have we got?" He asked as he strode into the lab.

Rodney glanced up and waved him over to where he and John were standing next to one of the computers.

"The taser would definitely have fried her transmitter." Rodney was saying, making calculations on his tablet. "There's no way we'll be able to track it until it comes back online."

"Online?" Evan asked hopefully.

Rodney nodded. "Maybe. We're not sure if its dead or just out of whack. In the mean time I'm cross referencing traffic cameras, city cameras, ATM cameras, webcams, security cameras, anything that's recording a digital signal, we're into. I've been able to piece it's route together until it reached the interstate about thirty minutes ago." he pointed out to a highlighted layout of the city map.

"So where is she?" Evan asked.

Rodney glanced at John, and something in his look turned Evan's heart to stone. "What."

John ran his hand through his hair. "Private airfield south of the city. Marks people confirmed that Frank's limo was already there when the panel van pulled up. Something was loaded into the plane, but they weren't close enough to get a good look."

"They let him take her?!" Evan practically shouted.

John shook his head. "_They _were too far away to do anything before the plane was on the runway, Major. You know as well as I do if they'd have had the chance, they would have taken it."

Rodney switched the map to an overview of the state. "Private jet." He pointed to a red dot tracking slowly across the screen. "We'll be able to tag them as soon as they land. If her transmitter comes back online, we can beam her out of there. But in the mean time…"

"There has to be something we can do…" Evan looked around at the incredible amount of advanced technology he was surrounded by. With all the advances at their fingertips… there was nothing they could use?

John shook his head. "We can't take any chances now that they're in the air."

"Beam us over there!"

John shook his head. "Too risky." He held up his hand when Evan opened his mouth to interrupt. "It's a small plane, Major. There's no room to just beam someone over without an incredibly high-rate of error. Beaming her out would simple if we could get a lock on her transmitter. Beaming someone in, more difficult since we don't have an exact layout or placement of our people. The slightest miscalculation and we could rematerialize the person outside the plane, not to mention get Keller killed if we suddenly appear out of thin air."

"Then beam them all here." Evan suggested, exasperated. Desperate.

"Already thought of that." McKay wriggled his index finger.

"But…" John glared at Rodney. "We can't just beam everyone out of the plane. We'd be leaving it without a pilot and it's flying over highly-populated residential areas. Yes, we could beam them all out except the pilot, but the implications of using a beaming technology that doesn't exist to a ship orbiting the planet is dangerous at best. We have no idea who else is on the plane, what kind of hardware they're carrying, or what kind of damage could be done. If they know about the Enzyme and Atlantis, there's a chance they may also know about the Daedalus and her technology. They could very well be prepared for such an occurrence, and we can't take that chance."

Evan ran his hand over his face and cursed. He knew the Colonel was right. Knew it was logical. But he didn't like it, didn't want to hear it, and didn't want to be agreeing with it.

John sighed. "Look. I want to go in there with guns blasting just as much as you do. But it's not an option. Not yet. Rodney's tracking the plane. As soon as it lands, we're going in. But until then…"

"We wait." Evan exhaled, glaring at the red dot inching slowly across McKay's computer screen.

"We wait." John confirmed.


	12. Chapter 12

"Kid looks like he's about to either burst into tears, faint, or pee his pants." Ryan muttered, stepping into the small observation room. He closed the door behind him and moved up to the one-way glass. Standing between John and Evan, he joined them in staring at Liam Shannon, who was sitting alone in the SGC interview room.

Evan didn't answer, and he refused to feel sorry for the kid.

"You tell him why you brought him in?" John asked, glancing over at Ryan.

"No." Ryan shook his head. "And he didn't ask. Came willingly. Hasn't said a word other than to ask to speak to his brother."

"Well, that's not about to happen." Evan muttered, knowing that at this exact moment, Lieutenant Jamie Shannon was in custody and being questioned by Richard Woolsey on Atlantis.

"Not that brother." Ryan handed John a folder. "Their oldest. Major Ian Shannon. Currently assigned to SG-12. Been off world for the last two weeks on a humanitarian mission to PR2-775. Marks is bringing him down now."

"There's three?" Evan leaned over to scan through the file as John flipped the pages.

"Commendation after commendation." John nodded, impressed. "According to this, he's one hell of a Marine."

Marks shrugged. "If you'd have asked me yesterday, I'd have said there was no way any of the Shannon boys were involved in anything illegal. Their family has been career military for generations, and not a bad apple among them."

"Until now." Evan glanced through the glass at Liam, who was sitting wide-eyed in his chair, nervously biting his fingernails.

John handed the folder back to Ryan, and turned towards the glass. "Kid can't be more than eighteen."

Ryan shrugged. "Hell, kids are killing kids these days. Age means nothing."

Evan kept silent. Death didn't care how old you were. All Death wanted was the job done.

The door opened and Marks stepped in, leading the way for a large Marine, still dressed in his BDU's, but minus his weapons. Tall and lean, the Major surveyed the room with a glance, briskly saluted John, then dropped his hand and turned towards the glass.

"Do you know why you're here, Major?" John asked briskly.

Major Shannon nodded. "I do, Sir. And I can tell you straight up, Liam would never willingly participate in anything that would cause harm to human or country."

"Liam." Marks asked. "Not James?"

The Major turned his green eyes onto Marks and gave him a cold, hard stare. "It's not Jamie you've got sitting behind glass, is it?"

John shook his head. "Not here, no."

Major Shannon's eyes moved back to John, understanding flashing in their depths. He exhaled, then angled his head towards the interview room. "Is that why I'm here? You think I'm involved?"

"Are you?" Marks asked.

John held up his hand. "At the moment, Major, we don't know what to believe. We are aware of your record, and that you've been off world for the past two weeks. But that doesn't mean you didn't have prior knowledge. However… right now our primary concern is in the safety and well being of Dr. Keller, and the recovery of the Wraith enzyme. For that – we need your brother's cooperation. Cooperation he's unwilling to give, apparently, until he talks to you, first."

The Major nodded. "I understand."

"If he helps us get Dr. Keller back, unharmed," Marks reminded the Major. "The easier this will be if this goes in front of a tribunal. You help us, and we'll do everything we can to keep him out of prison."

"Prison?" Ian's eyes turned back to Marks. "Unless the rules have changed in the last two weeks, you'd need a hell of a lot more evidence to get him bumped up to an adult conviction."

"What?" Evan frowned.

Ian Shannon turned towards Evan. "He's fifteen years old."

All eyes turned to Liam. Evan stared. Ages with kids was hard enough to determine without having pre-defined notions put into your head. In the tailored business suit, the kid looked young. Sure. And the frightened expression on his face also made him appear even younger. But fifteen?

Marks grabbed the folder from Agent Ryan and flipped through the paperwork. "Say's here he's eighteen."

"Well what it says there is wrong." Ian said sharply.

"It's easy enough to check." Ryan said quickly.

"Then check it." Ian's eyes drilled into the Agent's.

Ryan nodded to marks and stepped to the back of the room, digging out his cell phone.

"If you've read my file," Ian said quietly, but with strength and conviction. "Then you know my family has been career military for as far back as we can trace our family tree. There's no way Liam… _or Jamie_… would be involved in anything that could potentially harm our country, or planet, or our family."

John took a deep breath and turned towards Major Shannon. "We need him to tell us _everything_ he knows. And Major, if I find out either you, or your brother is lying to me…"

John left the threat unvoiced, but everyone knew from the look on Sheppard's face, it was not needed to be said aloud.

"Understood, Sir." Major Shannon nodded firmly, and followed John into the corridor.

* * *

Richard Woolsey stepped into the meeting room, and eyed Lieutenant James "Jamie" Shannon. The Lieutenant was seated on the opposite side of the table, his cuffed hands resting on the surface in front of him. Immediately behind the prisoner stood Lieutenant Edison and Captain Sanchez.

Turning towards Ronon, who'd followed him inside the room, Richard angled his head, and Ronon closed the door. Leaning against the wall next to the control panel, Ronon crossed his arms and stared unblinking at the Lieutenant.

Richard cleared his throat.

"Lieutenant Shannon. It is my understanding that you know exactly why you've been brought here under such… circumstances?"

Lieutenant Shannon nodded, his expression grave. He looked from Woolsey, to Ronon, then back to Woolsey. "I do, Sir."

"Very well." Richard pulled out a chair and sat down across from the Lieutenant. "Then why don't you begin by telling us why you stole the enzyme."

"But that's just it." The Lieutenant glanced nervously over his shoulder at Sanchez and Edison before turning back to Woolsey. "Like I tried to explain, Sir. I didn't steal it."

"Liar." Ronon growled, earning him a frown from Richard.

"Lieutenant." Richard tried again. "We already have your brother, Liam, in custody. He is, right now, _spilling the beans_, shall we say, to Colonel Sheppard."

"But he didn't do anything, wrong." Jamie started to stand, but was immediately shoved back down in his chair by Edison and Sanchez.

"Your brother helped facilitate the kidnapping of Dr. Keller." Woolsey said, staring directly across the table at the Lieutenant. "We have irrefutable proof, on video, of your brother's participation, and we have _your _fingerprints on the containment locker – a locker, which I might add, you do not have authority to access. Our only remaining question is to find out just how involved your eldest brother, Major Ian Shannon, is."

"Keep him out of this! Ian didn't do anything!" Jamie tried to stand again, but was held firmly in his chair. "Please, sir, you don't understand…" He pleaded.

Woolsey sat forward and clasped his hands. "Our primary concern is for the safe return of Dr. Keller."

"I don't know anything about what happened to Dr. Keller." Jamie shook his head, glancing warily at Ronon when the Satedan stepped forward.

"Leave me alone with him and I'll get you the answers." Ronon growled.

Richard held up his hand and waved Ronon off.

"Look." Jamie tried again, rubbing his face with his hand, the shackles clinking as he dragged his other arm up with it. "The enzyme is still here. I didn't remove it. I gave him an empty container. I told him he couldn't open it until I sent the access codes. But please, you have to listen to me-"

"Gave who the empty container?" Ronon interrupted

Lieutenant Shannon clenched his jaw, but didn't answer.

"Very well." Richard sighed. "We'll come back to that question. If you didn't remove it, then where is the enzyme?"

Jamie nodded quickly. "It's still in the storage area. I just moved it to another empty container." He tried to move again and was shoved back down. "I can show you. But you don't understand. Please, you have to help me!"

"Help you?" Richard blinked. "What do you think this is all about? You stand accused of treason, Lieutenant Shannon. That is-"

"No. Look…" The Lieutenant interrupted. "I don't care what you do to me. Lock me up. Send me back. Do whatever you need to do but please. But you have to help her…"

"Dr. Keller?" Richard frowned.

"Ella." Jamie whispered, the expression on his face torn with worry. He swallowed hard. "He's got Ella."

* * *

John opened the door to the interview room stepping in and to the side, making room for Major Ian Shannon to follow. As soon as Liam saw his brother he was up out of the chair and plastered against the front of the Major's BDU's. The two guards in the hallway stepped forward but John waved them off, and closed the door.

"Damn it, Liam." Ian swore. "What have you done?"

Liam promptly burst into tears.

In that instant John had absolutely no reason to believe the kid was anywhere near eighteen years old, because right now, wrapped around his older brother, bawling his eyes out, he looked about twelve.

"I'm sorry, Ian." Liam wailed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. I didn't. I tried to reach you. I swear, I swear. But I couldn't stop him. I couldn't. They took her and I tried to get her back. I'm so sorry."

"Whoa, hey." The Major grabbed his brother by the upper arms and pulled him away from the front of his shirt. "Took who, Liam. Dr. Keller?"

Liam sniffed loudly and shook his head. "No… Yes…" He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hands. "Oh God, Ian… He killed Maria. Killed Maria and… and… and took Ella. Ella. Took Ella and said he'd kill her too if I didn't help him."

Ian Shannon released his brother and stepped back as though he'd been slapped.

"Who's Ella?" John asked, not liking the sudden change in the Major's appearance.

Ian's eyes hardened and his hands fisted at his side.

The door opened and Evan and Marks both stepped into the room.

"Who took her…" Ian's voice was so low it was barely audible.

"A man… a man named Michael Franks." Liam sniffed. "He said I should… should look him up… so I would know he-he-he was serious. He's a killer, Ian. He's a killer and he has Ella."

"Major Shannon. Who is Ella?" John asked again, this time louder.

Major Shannon hooked his arm around his kid brother and pulled him in against his shoulder. Then he turned slowly towards John, his jaw clenched as tightly as his fists.

"Our baby sister." He exhaled. "Ella Louise Shannon. She's only two and half years old."


	13. Chapter 13

Jen struggled to keep up with the behemoth who dragged her across the floor of the airplane hanger. Her legs weren't working much beyond a wobble, after affects of the taser, and the drug they'd obviously given her to keep her asleep.

She had absolutely no idea of what time it was, or where she was, other than the fact that she was no longer in Washington, and it was still pitch black outside.

Something had gone horribly wrong if she was still here – because there was no way anyone would have left her this long if they'd known she was gone.

She struggled to clear her foggy mind as she was pulled unceremoniously across the cold cement floor and down a long hallway. At the end of the corridor, a tall, skinny man stood waiting next to what appeared to be an open closet door.

Jen eyed him warily as she was shoved forward, her upper arm caught by the man inside the closet. When the giant squeezed in with them, he pulled the door closed, then flipped open the cover of what looked like an electrical panel. In the bottom corner, a small keypad glowed. He entered a five digit code, then Jen left her stomach behind as the floor dropped beneath them and they sank into the ground.

An elevator.

She immediately thought back to the photos of the destroyed lab. The one under the airport. The one with the self-destruct. The one owned by Michael Franks.

She shuddered.

Skinny dragged her around to face the back wall and the hanging brooms and cleaning supplies. Within a few seconds they stopped moving, and the back wall swung away, revealing a clinically cold corridor with white walls and florescent lighting. She could smell the distinguished sharp tang of alcohol and cleaning solvents. But there was no sound, no people, nothing other than the sound of the hard soled shoes of her two companions.

Dragged forward, they passed several empty laboratories, their contents visible through the windows that bordered the long hallway. Equipment and monitoring stations, tables and computers. Jen briefly wondered if the computers would be online... a way to get a message out.

Reaching the end of the hallway, they turned sharply left, and proceeded down another corridor until they stopped in front of a windowless door near the end. Skinny opened the door and shoved her inside.

She stumbled and landed hard on the cold floor.

"Wait here." He ordered with a sneer, and then closed the door.

Jen heard the very distinguishable click of a lock sliding into place.

She fought the light-headedness and pushed herself to her feet, quickly testing the door handle.

Locked.

She turned and stared at her sparsely furnished prison - noting the neatly made cot, and small square pillow, an empty wooden table, and a matching wooden chair.

Other than that – it was completely bare.

She moved to the cot and sat down, tucking her cold, bare feet up beneath her. Pulling Evan's jacket tightly around herself she reached for the collar and buried her face in the material, taking a slow, deep breath, inhaling the faint trace of musk.

It smelled like him.

God how she wished he was here with her right now. Telling her it was going to be okay. Telling her she was going to be fine. Telling her he wasn't going to let anything happen to her.

Jen blinked back the burn and told herself to be strong. To be smart. They would come for her… and when they did… she'd need to be ready.

While she sat under the ugly lights of the overhead ultraviolets, she contemplated a dozen different reasons why she was here, and why she was alone. The most likely being that the taser had cooked her transmitter.

Which was also the most frightening thought.

Because without the transmitter, they'd have no way of knowing exactly where she was.

Jen lowered her head and buried her face in the collar of Evan's jacket, drawing strength from his muted presence. If they'd wanted her dead, she'd be dead, not just locked away. So, there was something specific they needed, or wanted, because she was still alive, and so far, unharmed. And until she could find out what they wanted, and who they were – although she already had a pretty good idea on that point - she needed to keep her head clear.

She needed to think.

She needed to survive.

To stay alive.

Because if there was one thing she knew about her _people_ - as Jack O'Neill had so kindly put it – they'd never give up.

She shivered in the cool, underground air, and willed them to hurry.

* * *

Evan stared at the small photo being passed around. It was dog eared and well loved, and had been to hell and back in Major Shannon's pocket, carried on every mission as his good luck charm. The smiling face staring back, chin covered in chocolate, sunny green eyes and wind-blown, messy pigtails.

Ella Shannon.

Too small, too innocent, to deserve what could be happening to her. What could be happening to either one of them by the likes of Michael Franks.

Evan slid the photo back across the table to Ian. The Major picked it up and stared down at the image, his expression closed except for the worry he tried very hard to bury behind his eyes. The same bright green eyes as his baby sister.

Ian glanced quickly past Liam to his brother Jamie, who'd just arrived courtesy of the Stargate.

"We need to know everything." John leaned forward in his chair, staring across the table at the three brothers. "The more we know, the better our chances."

Sitting in the conference room, the group watched Liam Shannon finish consuming a ham and cheese sandwich they'd retrieved from the cafeteria. Kid devoured it like he hadn't eaten in a week.

Jamie put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "You ready?"

Liam nodded and finished his mouthful, washing it down with a swig from his can of Coke.

It took nearly two hours for Liam to work his way through the hell he'd been going through for the past six weeks. Between the questions from around the table, a picture quickly formed and it was not pretty.

Evan held his anger in check, concentrating on every piece of information that could help him get Jen – and Ella – back alive.

Michael Franks was a monster.

Plain and simple.

Needing leverage against Liam Shannon, Franks took the one thing that Liam could not bear to loose. His baby sister.

Ella was Franks' insurance against the required silence and cooperation of Liam, who's summer internship put him in a prime location to be picked on as a patsy. With Liam's new found access to the IOA, and more importantly, Director Wilsher's labs, it made perfect sense for him to be the one to orchestrate the theft of the enzyme. No one would expect a kid - even if he did lie and say he was eighteen just so he could have the chance at being closer to his brothers. He himself was shocked no one confirmed his age. Wilsher went through so many interns and assistants, they took him without checking anything.

With no living parents, Ella, and to a lesser extent, Liam, were looked after by a live-in nanny. Maria. Maria's salary, and all the household expenses were paid for by Jamie and Ian. The older brothers had done what they could. But in this case… it wasn't enough.

Two weeks prior, Liam had come home to find a cell phone on his kitchen table, and an empty house. When the phone rang, it was Franks with his offer. Steal more enzyme… or Ella joins Maria at the bottom of the Potomac.

Evan had to hand it to the kid, all previous notions aside, Liam had done a hell of a job of holding it together as best he could.

Because Liam Shannon had known the stasis container was empty.

He'd gambled on his big brothers' help.

And may have lost his baby sister in the process.

It was a lot of weight to put on fifteen-year old shoulders.

Jamie Shannon leaned forward, and looked directly across the table at Colonel Sheppard. "I'm not a traitor, Sir. I couldn't release the enzyme… no matter…" His voice cracked slightly and he swallowed hard before continuing. "No matter what. But I…" He glanced at Liam. "We… had to do something."

John angled his head. "You should have just come to me in the first place, Lieutenant."

Jamie nodded. "I know that, Sir. But… but she's my baby sister. It's my fault we spent to long trying to find a way to get a message to Ian…" He glanced sideways at his older brother, who's stoic expression was cracking under the guilt of not being there. "We ran out of time." Jamie continued. "I even left the storage vault open in the hopes that someone would just notice the container was missing… but it was two weeks and nothing."

"Two weeks?" Evan frowned. "Wilsher's office has been working on the formula for two weeks. The underground lab was destroyed almost three weeks ago."

"Your time line isn't matching up." Marks warned, leaning forward.

Liam looked at Jamie, and the brother nodded. "It's okay. Tell them."

Liam turned back towards the others. "About two months ago someone broke into Director Wilsher's car. He said the only thing they took was his laptop, which was in his back seat. But…" he hesitated.

Ian put his hand on his younger brother's shoulder.

Liam took a deep breath. "He left earlier that day with one of those big silver hard cases… the one's we get every time the Deadalus arrives?"

John and Evan nodded. Both understood the Daedalus regularly transported viral and medical research and supplies to the SGC.

"How can you be so sure?" Marks asked.

"Because I had to carry it to his car for him." Liam answered quickly. "He said he had to review the notes and didn't have time to do it in his office. He swore there wasn't anything official inside. I remember specifically because… because the next day, when he said his car was broken into, I overheard him telling the police officer he only lost his computer. But… but then he never brought back the case."

Evan frowned. "You're sure."

Liam nodded. "Director Wilsher? He's... he's in charge of the research labs. One of the things they asked me to do is help keep track of the lab's inventory. Director Wilsher... he... he, um…" Liam looked uncomfortable, and squirmed in his chair.

"Keep going." His brother Ian urged.

Liam hesitated then continued, his voice quiet. "Well, I asked him about the case a few days later, and he said he returned it. But... he never checked that box in. So… it's not in the system. That's how I know it never came back."

"Do you know what was in the case?" John asked.

Liam glanced quickly at his brother Jamie, who nodded. Then he turned back to John. "A jump drive. And… and a small silver canister. It looked like one of those air cartridges for a paint-ball gun."

"The tube for an auto-injector." Evan glanced sideways at John.

John looked past Evan to Agent Marks. "I need everything you have on the break-in, and cross reference Daedalus records with Liam's inventory list." Then he shifted his gaze to Evan. "Although I can pretty much guess what was in that case."

Evan nodded. "Enzyme." Then he shook his head. "It would explain how they were able to get a formula developed. They had Jen's files on the jump drive, and a sample of the enzyme."

"But then they found out they couldn't do anything without more." John added.

"So Franks figured out how to _get _more." Marks chimed in.

"By taking Ella." Ian Shannon finished.

John nodded. "Looks like."

"He wants her to complete the formula." Evan muttered, his mind not wanting to admit what he already knew. "It's the only explanation. Her notes. Her research. He hasn't been able to get it to work, so he's going right to the source."

"Makes sense." John nodded, then completed the next thought at the same time as Evan's heart understood the complication. "And when they find out it _won't_ work?"

All the air left Evan's lungs. If Franks found out Jen _couldn't_ complete the formula… she'd be… worthless to him.

No one spoke – the answer obvious.

"So how do we get them back?" Ian finally asked.

John shook his head, his answer cut off when Rodney's voice buzzed in his ear. "Sheppard… it's McKay."

"Go ahead."

"The plane landed. Private airfield on the Florida coast."

"Get me everything you can on the location. Layout. Buildings. I want it all." John ordered.

"Already on it." Rodney answered briskly.

John shoved his chair back and stood up. He stared across the table at the brothers. "Major." He looked directly at Ian. "I think you're about to get that question answered."

Evan's heard skipped a beat and slammed back into place.

_Finally_.

Ian Shannon stood up, quickly followed by everyone else.

"What is it?" Liam asked quickly. "Did you find them?"

John turned to Marks. "You feel up to a field trip?"

Marks nodded. "Hell ya. Wouldn't miss it."

John looked past him at Agent Ryan. "I want Wilsher's fat ass in a cell."

Ryan grinned. "My pleasure."

"Liam gets an escort. Twenty-four-seven." John continued.

Ryan nodded his agreement and understanding.

John glanced at the youngest brother. "It's for your protection. And no leaving the SGC until this has been cleared up."

Liam nodded. "Yes, Sir." He croaked. "You… You'll bring her back? Both of them?"

"We'll bring them back." John answered, then glanced around the at the others.

"Requesting permission to assist, Colonel." Major Shannon asked quickly, his body ram-rod stiff.

"Same, sir." Jamie replied with equal snap.

John glanced at the two Marines, then stepped closer, staring at them for a moment before speaking. "No shit. No heroics. And you follow orders. One… and I mean one… variance, and you're both going to find your asses in the brig until Ella's college graduation. Do I make myself clear?"

A loud "Yes, Sir!" echoed through the room.

John glared at the two men, looking for anything in their faces other than truth. He shook his head slowly. "Don't make me regret this."

"No, Sir!" Both men answered.

As Evan waited to be beamed to the armory on board the Daedalus, he felt a calming sense of retribution tighten across his chest.

_Time to play._


	14. Chapter 14

"Let's go." The skinny man stood in the doorway of the tiny room and glared at Jen.

Her hesitation was a fraction too long and he lunged forward, grabbing her arm and roughly dragging her into the hallway. She stumbled, but he didn't stop. His fingers pinched her upper arm so tightly, she grimaced.

They turned back up the corridor, and stopped outside one of the laboratories she'd seen on her way in. The large man was standing in the hallway, his arms crossed, his expression locked and cold. He stepped aside and Jen was dragged into the room and swung around to face... Michael Franks.

She took a deep breath, and rubbed her upper arm against the bruise she was sure to have.

"Doctor Keller. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Michael Franks. Your... host." Michael Franks words were pronounced with a slightly eastern-European accent. He nodded and stepped forward, smiling when she immediately stepped back. Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, he looked very much the part of a wall-street banker, if not for the cold, dead look in his eyes. "You don't look surprised to see me?" He said, a mock frown on his face. Then he smiled again. "No matter. I, however, am glad to see you. You are a very difficult woman to find. Almost as difficult as I am."

Then he laughed at his own joke.

"What do you want." Jen tried to sound firm, but her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. "My friends…"

"Your friends," Franks interrupted. "Have absolutely no idea where you are." He angled his head as though listening to an unheard voice. "I have it on good authority that your… GPS transmitter? Is it? Will no longer work if it receives a charge from a taser. Is this true?"

Jen clenched her teeth and didn't answer. Maybe if he thought it was still working…

"I could have Rousseau shock you again, just to be sure…" Franks offered, and the skinny man stepped closer.

"No…" Jen shied away, backing herself up against one of the lab counters. "It won't work."

"Good." Franks smiled and nodded. "Then we have nothing to worry about."

Jen swallowed. "Why am I here?"

Franks held his arms wide and waved his open palms at the fully stocked laboratory. "Why… to finish your research, of course!"

"My research?" Jen frowned.

Franks nodded. "This Wraith enzyme?"

Jen blinked at his pronunciation of Wraith… he accented both vowels so it came out Ra-ith. She wondered if he knew what exactly it was.

"It's useless to you." Jen tried.

"Ah, well that's where you're wrong." He stepped forward, stopping a few feet in front of her. "You see, it was purely by accident that I came into possession of your research on this animal's blood. A very enterprising young man thought it might be of value, and my contacts liberated it for me. I may be what I am, Doctor, but what I am, is not stupid. I read your research, and your notes on increased stamina and strength in humans is… well… lets just say… of interest to me and my men. I wish you to finish your research. Make me a drug to increase strength and stamina."

Jen took a deep breath, already understanding what it was Michael Franks would, and could do, with the enzyme.

"If you have my research, then you already have everything." She finally said.

Franks frowned, then shook his head. "Ah, Doctor. But what I don't have, is the _product_. I have notes… and files… and samples. But I do not have anything that _works_. And, as you can see, my facility is… unfortunately… empty. I had some of the brightest scientists in the world working on my drug… but… unfortunately for them…" He smiled coldly. "They all failed. So…" he pursed his lips, then tilted his head. "I decided… if I was going to have access to such a wonderfully promising drug, I would need to find the woman who's research I obtained. Doctor Jennifer Keller. Or… should I say Lorne? Imagine my surprise when I discovered that you were a last minute addition to the function? Although the fact that you are now married was missed by my… contact. The man has since been reprimanded for his inability to properly perform his job. Good people are _so_ hard to find these days…" he sighed dramatically, then shook his head. "Now… where was I? Right. Your husband. A fine looking young man."

"Leave him out of this!" Jen blurted out, then snapped her mouth closed. _Give him as little as possible. The man's a complete fruitcake. He'll kill you – or Evan – just for kicks._

"It is not your man I am interested in." he shrugged. "Or I would have just killed him already."

Jen paled, her heart stopping before skittering back into its frantic beat. _Would have_… she repeated to herself. He said _would have already_…

"Relax." Franks waved his hand dramatically. "He is of no use to me. I would not waste a perfectly good bullet."

Jen sucked in a shaky breath while Franks continued his monologue.

"Your attendance tonight… Coincidence? I think not. However, if it was somehow made known what I was doing, I do not believe the powers that be, would have left you alone to attend this party. So I will continue to think you were there to support the auction, and it is simply my good luck that has brought you to me." He gave his fingertips a dramatic kiss and place his palm over his heart. "I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say. You are here. And that is all that matters."

"I still don't understand what you expect me to do."

He swept his hand across the room. "We have the latest, and greatest technology. A lab that rivals any research institution on the planet, I am told. All the supplies and machinery you could possibly need. I wish to control the super-strength your research alludes to. I wish to control an army of super-strong soldiers. So what do I want? What I want... Doctor… is for you... to finish… the… drug. Make me an army worthy to lead!"

With each word he stepped closer until Jen was completely pressed against the counter top. There was no way she could tell him she couldn't finish it, and even if she could, he didn't have nearly the level of equipment she'd need to do it. And she didn't have the enzyme.

"You help me?" He said, his smile not reaching his dark eyes. "And I will return you to your husband. Refuse, and you die."

Jen's heart was pounding with such force she was pretty sure it could be heard in the hallway. She swallowed, and took a deep breath, her wobbling voice betraying her fear.

"You're going to kill me either way." She managed to croak. "So why should I bother?"

Franks blinked. Blinked again. Then tipped his head back and laughed. "Ah, Doctor." He looked down at her. "Such refreshing honesty!"

Then he turned towards the door and snapped his fingers, then pointed to the right. "Kotko!" The big burly man nodded, then disappeared from view.

"While I did not quite expect you to be so forward, you should know I am not a man who doesn't not have a… how you say it… plan B?" Franks stepped away, and Jen sagged with the return of her personal space.

Kotko reappeared suddenly, and in his arms was a small child. Jen stepped forward with a gasp. It looked horribly wrong to see such a cold hearted man holding such a sweet little child. The little girl was barely older than two, dressed in pink fuzzy-foot pyjamas, and rubbing her eyes against the light. Dark, curly hair twisted out of two floppy pig-tails above each ear and she squirmed in the man's meaty arms.

"You, perhaps, feel your are able to sacrifice yourself for the greater good." Franks began, reaching up to thread his finger through the little girl's hair. "But would you sacrifice a child?"

Jen gasped. "What?!"

"You help me. She lives. You refuse. You both die." Franks blinked at Jen. "It is simple, no?"

The little girl started to whimper, and Jen stepped forward, grabbing her out of the big man's arms. He seemed more than willing to let her go. Jen shushed the child, cradling her against her shoulder. The little girl fussed, then quieted, the small, sleepy fingers reaching up to hold Jen's ear.

"Who is she. Why is she here? Where are her parents?!" Jen demanded, tightly clutching the little girl.

"Things that do not concern you. All you need to know is that she is merely an insurance policy. Her family wishes her no harm, and so they will give me everything I ask for."

In that brief moment, Jen understood just how much of a monster the man was who stood before her. And just how far he would go to get what he wanted. She had no help, but she did have hope. Only hope wasn't going to keep her, or the child, alive. She couldn't make the formula work, and she couldn't not make it work. She was left with only one option.

Do everything she could to find a way out of here.

If that meant playing along… then she would play along. But she couldn't take the chance they'd harm the girl in her absence.

"She stays with me." She finally answered, staring at Franks.

Franks raised his eyebrow, but smiled to know he'd received her consent.

"I'll finish the research." Jen said quickly. "But she stays with me."

After a moment of tense silence, Franks finally nodded, and Jen felt safe to breathe once more.

"As you wish." Franks said quietly. "But be warned, Doctor. I would not hesitate to kill her if you were to insult my… hospitality. Is this understood?"

Jen nodded.

Franks turned to the skinny man – Rousseau. "Set up two cots. And make sure our lovely Doctor has food and drink. We do not want her… fainting from lack of nourishment." Then he turned back to Jen. "Do not delay too long, Doctor. I have more of your enzyme being delivered within the hour."

With a polite bow, and a blown kiss to the child, Franks disappeared into the hallway, leaving Jen and the child behind with the bodyguards. She watched Rousseau and Kotko move to stand in the hallway just outside the door. She briefly wished she were Teyla. Teyla would kick both their asses, while holding the baby.

Jen sighed.

But then Teyla wouldn't have gotten herself into this situation in the first place.

With a heavy heart, Jen sat down on one of the three wheeled stools and cradled the sleeping toddler, terror creeping into her bones that she wouldn't be able to keep the little one safe. She had an hour until the fake canister showed up. If the canister was still in the statue, she would be fine. The statue had a transmitter. But if the transmitter was discovered, or the canister had already been removed from the statue…

Jen shook her head and shuddered, fighting back the fear. There were far too many unknowns. She couldn't do this alone. She _had_ to do this alone.

Either way, she had to do - whatever it was - _fast_.

"Hurry, Evan." She whispered, staring up at the ceiling. "Please hurry."

* * *

The mission briefing took twenty minutes, with each of the four assembled teams being assigned a different section of the airport.

It was quickly discovered that several things worked in their favor, namely the assistance of the Daedalus.

They would not require vehicles or air transportation to give them access to the airfield. There would be nothing for any scouts or lookouts to spot in warning because the teams would be beamed directly to their marks. They could also confirm that there were no life-signs outside the building, which could mean Franks was overconfident – which none of them believed – or Franks had electronic eyes on the ground. A more probable explanation.

By tapping into the local power grid, Rodney would kill power to the entire sector, plunging half the county into blackness. A little extreme, but useful if you wanted your target to think it was everyone, and not just him, who'd lost his hydro. Team 3, headed by Major Shannon, would plant charges on the generators located behind one of the smaller hangars on the east side, and wait for the signal to blow them. Teams 1 and 2, lead by John and Evan respectively, would flank the building from north and west, their objective to reach the inside of the building and the entrance to the underground facility. Team 4, tasked with blowing the fuel tanks, would also cover the south quadrant.

They would be working in the dark - a bonus and a hindrance - even with the NVG's. So the Daedalus would track all transmitters and life signs, and help coordinate the strike force from its lofty position.

Waiting for their orders, most of the men jostled and joked, ribbing each other on past missions and odd outcomes. Evan wasn't much in the mood for joking, but he understood the underlying need. It was something to think about other than all the what-if's.

Marks hurried into the armory, and cut a path directly to John, waving Evan over. "I just heard from Ryan. Wilsher's in the brig and screaming court marshal."

John made a face. "Tell him to stand in line."

"Actually it's the Major's tail-feathers he wants." Marks grinned slyly at Evan.

Evan smiled coldly. "Oooh, a rematch."

John raised an eyebrow.

"I'll explain later." Evan shook his head.

"Do I want to know?" John frowned.

"No."

John blinked. "I'm not going to like this am I?"

Evan could almost picture the explosion once his CO found out just how forward that idiot Wilsher had gotten with the Doc… He couldn't stop the grin.

John sighed, then shook his head to clear it.

"All right…" Rodney huffed, striding in from the hallway, his eyes on the small Ancient hand-held scanner. "I'm a genius and you can thank me later."

John rolled his eyes. "Because?"

"Because I have confirmation that our statue is, at this very moment, approaching the airport. It's coming in on a small Cesna, and should be landing in... seventeen minutes and thirty six seconds. Give or take a second or two, based on… wind speed resistance. Hard to calculate with-"

"Nice work, McKay." John interrupted, then turned towards the group of men scattered across the room. "All right gentlemen. Playtime's over. Time to get our people back, and blow some shit up."

A boisterous echo of _Ooh-rahs_! followed them out and into the corridor.


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's Notes --- Jen's trapped in the underground lab, the boys are on their way (complete with large amounts of C4 and copious levels of testosterone) and everything's coming together nicely. You'd think. :) - Nika_

* * *

A few moments later, Rousseau returned with a small fold up cot which he quickly set up in the corner.

Jen lay the sleeping child down, and glared at the skinny man. "She needs a blanket."

Rousseau refused to move.

Jen tried a different tactic. "Am I supposed to ask Mr. Franks?"

Rousseau blinked. He left and returned after a short moment with a grey blanket.

Jen snatched it and covered the sleeping child, her mind spinning. With Rousseau and Kotko guarding the hallway, she wasn't going to be able to find a way out of the lab. Which meant that whatever she was going to do… it would have to be from inside. While she watched the small child making faces in her sleep, Jen tried to keep herself calm. Inside. Inside she could do. This was a lab. Her domain. There was something here to use and she'd find it. Because if she'd discovered anything about herself during her years in Pegasus, it was that she, Jennifer Keller, was nothing if not industrious. She'd performed a brain operation with a power-drill for god's sake – she could get herself out of an… underground laboratory.

_Right_.

Jen sighed.

Or not.

_Think, Keller!_

Deciding the only sensible thing would be to start by finding out exactly what she had to work with – besides a pair of killer Athosian hair-sticks - she turned and began exploring as quickly, and subtly as possible. After searching through drawers, she found paper and a pen, and began a quick inventory of various chemicals and elements at her disposal. It wasn't more than a few minutes before an idea began to form, and with it, a silent prayer to Laura Cadman and her tequila slammers. If not for the drunken escapades of the Lieutenant, Jen would probably have no idea what chemicals you could mix with what to produce both a harmless smoke bomb, or a volatile piece of chemically explosive mastery.

The catch was – how to make either without looking like she was making it?

And…

What was she going to do with them once she finished?

Jen turned towards the doorway and the two bodyguards, who were watching her warily. She eyed the sleeping child, and settled her resolve.

If they hadn't found her by now, then there was a good chance they weren't coming.

She had no choice.

Turning on one of the computers, Jen searched until she found some of the research files and opened them up. Burying her head in the notes and files, she quickly calculated the required components necessary to make Laura's cocktails, her scribbled calculations a mix of mathematics, chemical elements, Ancient and Wraith. No one but Carson, Radek, or Rodney would be able to decipher it without a translator.

"I am curious." Franks voice cut in beside her and she jumped with a gasp. Her trembling fingers clutched her throat as she stepped back.

Franks ignored her obvious discomfort and picked up the notepad. He stared at the calculations, frowning.

Jen held her breath, hoping and praying he wouldn't really recognize anything. Knowing there was a snowballs chance in hell he'd know Ancient or Wraith but fearing the consequences just the same. She couldn't help but glance past him at the sleeping child.

"Hmm." He finally nodded.

Jen exhaled when he put the notepad down and turned towards her.

"Rousseau and I have a… little side bet going…"

Jen swallowed, warily eyeing the skinny man as he stepped forward.

"We are curious as to the origins of the creature which excludes this… enzyme."

Jen's heart quickened. How much did he know? How much was evident in the research? Exactly what research notes of hers did he have and how did he get them? From the SGC? Pegasus? Her mind whirled while she stared wide eyed at her captor.

Franks smiled, cold and hard. "I…" He placed his palm flat against his chest. "Believe we have many… undiscovered treats in this world. However… we have come to a stalemate on your… Ray-ith."

Jen blinked. "Stalemate?"

Franks nodded. "I say a creature with such power could only exist in an environment that supports a need for such enhanced skills. A place so… unforgiving… only the very strong could ever hope to survive. But it would also have to be a place that is yet undiscovered by the overzealousness of humanity. We have narrowed it down to two choices. You will tell us who wins."

Jen held her breath as Franks stepped closer.

"My choice… cold and ice… the far North, or perhaps south. Himalayas? Antarctica?"

When he smiled, Jen thought his grin was very much cold and icy. Then he angled his head towards Rousseau, who was eyeing her with distain.

"Rousseau," Franks frowned. "Believes something more tropical. Hot. Humid. Like this movie… what it is?" He snapped his fingers at Rousseau.

"Predator." Rousseau flashed a smirk then immediately returned to his scowl.

"Predator." Franks nodded. "Yes, yes. Rainforest. Deep jungle. You will tell us which one wins."

"I… I will?" She hesitated, which Franks did not like. His eyes narrowed and leaned closer. Jen's heart skittered and she nodded quickly. "I… Yes… I will. It's um…"

_Space was cold. Technically._

"Cold."

"HA!" Franks clapped his hands, then clamped Rousseau on the shoulder. "I win."

Rousseau's expression didn't change. He merely shrugged.

Franks turned towards Jen, his smile not reaching his eyes. He angled his head, then leaned forward with excrutiating slowness to sniff her hair. "Do you wish to know what it is I have… _won_?"

Jen didn't want to know.

She really, really didn't want to know.

Time stopped.

Franks chortled, and stepped back. Then he tapped his index finger onto the notepad containing her scribbles, his smile fading. "I distract you enough. You may resume your work, Doctor."

With a precise nod, he turned and disappeared into the hallway.

Jen let out a shaky breath.

Okay.

Time to leave.

* * *

Evan ignored the tickling sensation of dry dust in his nose as he lay flat in the dirt, his eyes on the approaching plane as it taxied across the tarmac. The sharp whine of the small, single engine cut through the silent night, and covered over just about any sound they might be making as the teams slid into place around the main hanger.

The hanger doors were open on both sides, the bare insides brightly lit under the overhead fluorescents. Clearly visible, Franks small, private jet sat in the middle of the floor. The plane, and the building, was guarded by four men, each armed, and each wearing Kevlar.

Daedalus confirmed no other life signs… above ground. And only two life signs inside the Cesna. Six was no match… but that was the six they could confirm. Who knew how many more lurked beneath the surface?

"On my mark." Sheppard's voice announced, as each team stood ready to make their move.

C4 and detonators were in place on both the fuel tanks and the already disabled generators. Once the power was cut, the teams would move in, using the sudden plunge into darkness to their advantage. The guards inside would be instantly blinded, their night-vision ruined because of their position under the overheads.

Sheppard's team would take out the two guards on the west side, and Evan's team would flank the building from the north, moving in from behind the plane, taking out the pilot and passenger. The guards inside the east side of the hanger were the responsibility of Major Shannon's team.

Major Effingham's team would clear the inside office area, and meet the other three teams in the main bay before proceeding to the underground entrance, which Rodney had located inside a broom closet.

They would either wait for curiosity to kill the proverbial cat and someone come up from below, or hope McKay could find the entrance and get them inside. Evan was personally betting on option 2. This wasn't Michael they were dealing with. This booby traps and set up was pure Earth tech.

McKay would eat them alive.

The plane slowed, the thrumming chop of the propeller dropping in tone and volume as it rolled the final distance towards the open hanger doors.

He checked his watch. Oh-five-hundred. They were running out of time - and the bonus covering of darkness.

He sent up a silent prayer that she'd be fine – both would be fine – then cleared his mind of everything but the task at hand.

Find them, liberate them, and bring them home.

* * *

Jen pulled out several sets of chemical compounds from various storage units, and placed them on the counter in front of her. She tried to ignore the over-the-shoulder looks she was getting from Rousseau and Kotko, choosing instead to watch them from her peripherals, and concentrate more energy on keeping her hands steady while she poured. She glanced at the notes, then back at the volume of elements she was mixing, praying… praying she remembered Laura's drunken tirades in the right order. She set the pair of glass beakers carefully on the counter and reached for the rubber stoppers. Her hands were shaking and she clenched them quickly together, feeling the immediate shock of how cold her fingers were.

Realizing how suspicious she must look, she walked towards the little girl, and adjusted her blanket before turning back towards the work table. Trying to look as casual as she could under the circumstances, Jen stuck her cold hands into the pockets of Evan's jacket.

Her right fingers met with something thin and wiry and she almost pulled it out to look at it until she realized with a staggered step exactly what it was she was holding in her right hand.

Evan's com.

Oh god.

She yanked her hand back out of the coat and stood in front of her notepad, her palms flat on either side of the paper. Staring down at the scribbled blur, she struggled to breathe.

_Could she activate it without them seeing? Were they watching her now? Could she turn and look without being overly blatant? Would it work underground?_

_Oh lord, oh lord, oh lord._

With a deep breath, she managed to get the rubber stoppers into both beakers, silently chanting a command to her fingers not to shake it.

Then, a quick glance at the doorway confirmed both men were guarding the room – not her. They looked forward or to the side down the hallway, but not behind them.

She was apparently no threat.

They were only there to make sure she did not leave.

Or… she supposed… kill her if she did anything wrong.

… talking on a radio kind of wrong.

Oh, hell. She glanced at the small child, with the realization that she had no choice.

_Please let this work!_

Jen took a deep breath, and pulled the com out of her pocket, her fingers shaking so badkly she swore she was going to drop it. With her head turned so they would only see her left side, should they look, she hooked the small unit over her ear and turned it on.

Before she could even comprehend what the hell she was supposed to say, aside from screaming for help, she clearly heard John's voice counting down.

_Counting down to what?_

"Three… two… one… mark."

And with a suddenness that made her cry out, the lab was plunged into complete darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

In the complete blackness, Jen couldn't see… but she could most certainly hear.

Inside her ear, commands for teams to proceed to their objective.

Outside her ear, curses and footsteps, and muffled whimpers.

_Oh thank god, they were here!_

She nearly collapsed out of relief.

But she was not free yet.

They might be _here _– wherever here was – but where exactly _were _they and how soon before they could get to her? Too many questions left too many unknowns.

With absolutely no visible light source there was nothing she could do but feel forward with her feet and fingertips.

Carefully locating the beakers, she clutched them tightly, sliding them along the smooth surface of the counter top until she reached the end by the far wall. She wanted to call out – to tell John and Evan and whoever the hell else was listening that she was here… but she couldn't speak for fear of being discovered.

"Doctor!" A thick baritone called out. "It will do you no good to hide."

Jen held her breath, and kept her mouth clenched shut, trying to decide just how quickly she could do what she needed to do. The Marines would have night-vision, but she did not. If this concoction of Laura's worked… it would burn... giving her a distraction to perhaps escape. And, it would also create a lot of light.

Light that would let her see… and also be seen. It was dangerous. But she didn't want to wait – she wanted out. Now.

"Doctor!" Kotko called, a little louder this time. Jen could hear him moving into the room. "You will regret hiding from me."

As the little girl began to cry, Jen's ear hummed with orders and commands. Something about guards, an airplane, fuel tanks, and a package. She ignored the voices… ignored the fact her heart stopped beating when she recognized Evan's voice in the mix. Ignored the terrified whimpers of the little girl. All to concentrate on putting one foot firmly down beside the other, without making any noise.

"Shut up!" Kotko ordered. "Damn wailing child."

Jen moved along the back side of the counter, still gripping the beakers, still praying she wouldn't drop them. She knew her hands were shaking but she couldn't think about it. Sliding her bare feet across the floor she side-stepped until she could feel the wires from the back of the computer monitor.

"Doctor…" He warned coldly from the far side of the counter. "Answer now, or I will make you feel pain."

Jen was almost back around to the head of the table. Close to the door, close to the girl, close to the hallway and potential freedom.

It would have to do.

Any further and she might not be able to throw them properly.

She just needed to distract him long enough to grab the child and run…

A loud crash and the sounds of smashing glass to her left told her that Kotko was definitely now at the back of the lab. He'd just knocked over the cart containing the sterilized beakers.

Jen took a deep breath and willed herself to take one more step back. Sending said a prayer to the heavens and furiously shook the beakers, counting to three. She could feel the concoctions bubbling vigorously, making a soft hissing noise. On three, she threw one after the other towards each corner of the back of the room as hard as she could.

And ducked.

The explosion hit with a concussion wave so powerful it knocked her right off her feet.

* * *

"What the…" Rodney muttered, the vibration shaking through the floor he was kneeling on. He glanced at Sheppard.

Along with a contingent of Marines, Evan, John and Rodney were crouched behind a counter, staring down the long hallway towards the elevator. Flashlight beams from P90's zigzagged across the cement floor of the hanger as several other Marines dragged their incapacitated prisoners into the corner.

"What the hell was that?" John turned towards the scientist.

Rodney looked up, his eyes wide in the pale blue glow of the screen. "Some kind of explosion."

"Where?"

Rodney pointed at the floor.

"Shit." John cursed.

"We need to move." Evan urged, stomping down the panic trying to bubble to the surface.

John turned towards the open floor of the hangar.

"Major Shannon. Take your team and cover the back. Make sure we're not about to get any more company. There's a secondary entrance back there. Watch your six."

"Roger, that!" The Major nodded, leading his team across the hangar bay and disappearing into the night.

"Effingham, on my mark I want you to blow the fuel tanks."

Effingham grinned. "Yes sir!"

"Lorne, you're with me."

Evan nodded and stepped in behind John as they moved quickly down the hallway. One Marine reached for the handle and on John's nod, ripped open the door. P90's aimed at all angles covered a mop bucket, several brooms, and a box of cleaning supplies.

"It's a closet." One of the Marine's frowned.

"So _you_ say." Rodney brushed past him and stepped inside. He opened the fuse box and ripped the panel off the small keypad. Prying the face plate off, he quickly connected two cables to his tablet.

"Can you get us down there?" John asked quickly.

Rodney made a sound halfway between a snort, and a pfft.

"There's no power." A Marine Lieutenant frowned.

"Ah yes." Rodney nodded, making calculations on his tablet. "Because power makes the world go round. Well, my uneducated friend, let me introduce you..." He moved the cable to another connection inside the panel. "To a little thing…" He made another calculation on his tablet. "I call…" Rodney looked up and made a face at John. "Gravity."

Everyone's stomach lurched as the floor began to drop. One of the Marines who'd been standing outside the closet quickly jumped inside to ride the silently dropping elevator.

"How do we stop?" John said quietly, glancing at Rodney.

Rodney blinked. "It has brakes."

"Without power?"

"Do you really want me to go into it?"

He was met with a chorus of harshly whispered "No's".

They watched the bottom edge of the closet door disappear above their heads. After dropping close to fifteen feet their movement slowed with an audible click, everyone exhaled. After a moment, all eyes turned to McKay.

"What?" Rodney frowned.

John rolled his eyes. "The door?!" He whispered dramatically.

"Oh!" Rodney nodded, returning to his tablet. "Right."

* * *

Jen coughed violently against the cloud of dust and particles raining down around her. She rolled onto her back and lifted her head to stare at the destruction. Fires burned in both corners. Wires and rebar bent and twisted out of the wall, wrapped around misshapen hunks of cement. A portion of the ceiling had collapsed, dumping a small mountain of cinder blocks and mangled equipment onto the floor, and exposing the innards of the ceiling.

There was no sign of Kotko.

"Holy shit, Laura!" She whispered. "You said a _small_… what the hell's your definition of _big_?"

Jen rolled onto her stomach and forced herself to her feet. The toddler was wailing long and loud, a beacon to anyone within miles. Staggering towards the cot, Jen quickly confirmed the little one had been sheltered enough with the cot tucked in beside a large filing cabinet. Other than being terrified, the little one was unharmed.

Jen cocooned her in the blanket and lifted her up. The child's arms immediately shot out and hooked Jen's neck with a strangle hold. Jen shushed her, begging her to stop crying, and the little girl's wails turned to wet snuffles as she buried her wet cheeks against Jen's neck.

Jen reached for the com.

"Colonel Sheppard this is Dr. Keller, can you hear me?" She whispered as loudly as she could chance. Leaning her head around the corner she stared into the hallway.

"Doc?!" Came John's shocked reply. "How'd you…" A pause. "Right… Never mind. Are you okay?"

"You're late." She whispered, peering left and right down the hallway. Elevator – no power.

"Well, you know how traffic is this time of day…" Evan's voice came back and she couldn't stop the smile. "I see you found the radio."

"No, actually I'm projecting a psychic link." She hissed. There had to be a secondary exit. She tried the door right across the hall. Locked. Moving to the next one. Also locked. "Where are you? Are you in the lab?"

"McKay's working on getting us out of the closet." Evan muttered.

"You're in the closet? You might have mentioned that before we got married…" She muttered, hoping she remembered the direction of the elevator. The ambient light from the fire in the lab was almost gone and she could barely see more than the vague outline of the corridor.

"Uh, Doc. This is an open com…" John muttered.

"You're the one who said you were coming out of the closet." She countered, the shrieked when a secondary explosion vibrated the floor. She staggered and bounced into the wall, dropping hard on her knees. She hunched her shoulders to shield the child.

The little girl began to cry again in earnest.

"Doc!" John's concern pierced her ear. "Doc, you okay? What the hell's going on? Who's crying? Is that a child?"

Jen couldn't answer. Not with a hand pressed so tightly around her throat.

"Get up." Rousseau ordered from behind. "It's time."

Jen staggered to her feet, half lifted by the strangling pressure around her throat. She gripped the little girl tightly, willing herself to move without dropping the poor child. Rousseau shifted his hand to the back of her neck and squeezed. She cried out against the sharp press of his fingers, ignoring John's and Evan's frantic attempts to get her to acknowledge them.

"Move!" Rousseau ordered, shoving her forward.

"Time? Time for what? Where are you taking me?" She asked, fighting to split her concentration between the voices in her ear and the man dragging her down the hallway. John was ordering someone named Effingham to get into position, and yelling at McKay to hurry up with the doors. The doors to the elevator? But she wasn't going in the direction of the elevator.

"No, wait! Shouldn't we get out of here?" She staggered, and Rousseau shoved her even harder. "The elevator is back that way!"

Rousseau switched his grip from her neck to her upper arm as he dragged her back towards the destroyed lab. "You'll pay for that." He hissed.

"Pay... pay for... for what?" She staggered, trying to keep the child upright while he kept pulling her left arm. The little girl clung so tightly Jen was having issues swallowing.

"Liar." Rousseau stopped and swung her towards the firelight glowing in the open doorway. Flames burned brightly, licking up the walls, finding anything they could to use for fuel. Paper, chemicals. If the fire hit the oxygen tanks in the corner…

"I… didn't... I didn't do anything." She shuddered.

Rousseau snarled, shoving her past the lab and further down the hallway and into the darkness. Several turns later she was nearly blinded by the glowing white beam of a flashlight.

"Take the child." Franks sharp voice snapped from behind the light.

"No!" Jen gripped the little girl tightly but Rousseau pulled so hard Jen was afraid the child would be hurt. The little arms struggled to hold onto Jen's neck but they were snatched away. Rousseau dropped the child unceremoniously onto the floor.

With her pink-footed feet tangled in the blanket, the little one sat between the three of adults, her face upturned into the light, tears flowing freely down her little cheeks. Jen reached for her but Rousseau yanked her back towards Franks.

Jen raised her arm, shying away from the light that blinded her eyes. Her heart was slamming behind her rib cage with such force she felt the pain through her spine. She desperately wished to hear their voices - Evan's voice. John. Rodney. Anyone! But the com in her ear was deathly silent.

"You have disappointed me Doctor." Franks spat. "And I am not a man who tolerates disappointment. You will pay for your insolence."

"No, please! I didn't d-"

Blinded by the flashlight, Jen didn't see the hand coming.

Her head snapped with such force she slammed into the wall and slid to the floor, stars exploding behind her eyes. The sharp taste of copper filled her mouth, and tears stung her eyes. The world swam and swayed, the glow from the flashlight splitting into several beams before blurring and returning to just one.

"It is a shame, Doctor." The voice came from somewhere above her. "I had high hopes for our… partnership."

Jen tried to rise but her head was spinning to violently for her to get her bearings long enough to determine which direction was up. She could see the little girl crawling towards her so she closed her eyes against the nausea that was rolling through her stomach, and reached blindly towards the wailing toddler.

"Go to hell." She cursed Franks, and Rousseau, and Kotko, and any person or being in the universe who could harm a child.

A hand twisted in her hair yanking her roughly to her feet. She cried out and clamped her hands down on her hair, trying to keep whichever man it was from ripping it off her scalp.

Franks face hovered in front of hers.

"I have been to hell and can live there quite comfortably." He sneered, then shoved Jen back down to the ground. She braced herself but still landed hard on her side. Rolling, she reached for the little girl and pulled the wailing, frightened child against her.

"Kill her." Franks ordered coldly. "Kill them both."


	17. Chapter 17

There was no more time.

_Kill her…_

Evan stopped thinking, his body moving before he had a chance to do anything but react.

John ordered Effingham to blow the tanks and aimed for Rousseau.

Evan took a half-dozen full speed strides and leapt for Jennifer.

Under the accompanying crack of Rousseau's weapon, Evan hit the ground and smashed hard into Jen, throwing himself over her head and shoulders, his upper body bucking against the hammer blow that slammed into the middle of his spine, leaving him without oxygen. The sharp snap of Sheppard's .45 echoed over Jen's screams as the walls around them rumbled and shook.

McKay's panicked shout from the end of the corridor called a warning that the oxygen tanks were going to blow.

Then the world flashed white as the air caught fire around them.


	18. Chapter 18

Jen's head was spinning. She struggled when someone tried to pry the child away from her tight grasp until she heard Evan's voice telling her it was okay – she could let go. As her eyes finally recognized what she was seeing – and where - she released her bundle and two nurses quickly lifted the pink-pajama clad toddler out of Jen's arms.

When the weight moved off her, she rolled her head to see John drop beside Evan, who was sprawled on the floor, hissing through his teeth.

_Evan?_

Evan was the sudden weight?

Her body tried to roll towards him a panic before her mind made the connection. Evan jumped between her and Rousseau? Rousseau was going to shoot her… Rousseau… shot… Evan?

One of the doctors reached for her and she shoved at him, fighting her dizzy mind to try to crawl over to Evan.

"Evan…?" She croaked, wincing against the flash of pain in the side of her jaw. She swatted the doctor's hand away again, and knelt next to John.

"He's okay, Doc." John dropped Evan's P90 onto the floor beside him. "Gonna have a hell of a bruise, Major." He scowled.

"Shit that hurts." Evan mumbled, his eyes falling on Jen. "What the hell…" Anger fueled his body as he tried to sit up but John pushed him back down. "You're bleeding."

Evan tried to reach for her a second time but John shoved him down again, this time holding him to the floor while he himself turned towards her.

"Shit! Who hit you?" John's voice was low and cold, his fingers reaching for the side of Jen's cheek, then stopping mid-air. John eyed the doctor who'd been trying to get Jen to stand up. "What the hell are you waiting for? Help her?!"

The doctor stepped forward again and Jen shoved his hand away. "Stop. I'm fine!" She bent over Evan, ripping the velcro off his shoulder.

"Jen." Evan tried to grab her hands to stop her but she slapped them away.

"Don't you start…" She ordered, ripping the second shoulder strap off. "You stubborn idiot. What kind of dumb ass rescue plan was that? And you!" She glared at John. "I suppose this was your idea! Help me sit him up."

"I… what? No… I… He did this himself." John grabbed Evan's upper arm and pulled him into a sitting position.

"_He_ can sit himself up, you know…" Evan muttered.

John shook his head in warning.

Jen slid around to Evan's back, while John lifted the vest off.

Jen yanked Evan's BDU shirt and the underlying t-shirt up out of the back of his pants. "Damn alpha males." She muttered. "Everything's always got to be about jumping in front of flaming bulls, doesn't it?"

"Flaming bulls?" John frowned at Evan, who was giving him a pained expression as Jen's fingers explored his back.

"Yes, flaming bulls!" Jen ducked her head, probing along his spine. "You're lucky you didn't break a rib… or… or… worse."

"Want the bullet?" John pried the remnant of the crushed bullet out of the vest and handed it to Evan.

"Not helping…" Evan glared at his CO, hissing when Jen's fingers ran over, and around, the deep bruise left from Rousseau's bullet.

"You're impossible. Both of you" She muttered, yanking Evan's shirt back down and sitting back on her heels. Changing her mind, she plopped down onto her bottom on the cold infirmary floor with a sigh.

A commotion broke out in the hallway as two Marine's rushed into the room.

"Lieutenant Shannon?" Jen blinked, immediately recognizing one of their Atlantis personnel.

The young man practically ran across the room to where the two nurses were amusing the little girl. John stood and quickly moved to intercept, but on a nod from the nurses, the two brothers were allowed past.

"Janeee!" The little voice squeeled as small arms reached out, fingers clasping and unclasping frantically in the air. "Janeee!"

Jamie Shannon scooped the toddler up and hugged her tightly, spinning to face the second Marine, who landed both hands against the little one's face, planting a succession of kisses on her forehead.

"Neenan! Janeee!" The little girl laughed, demanding to be moved from one brother to the other, then back again.

Evan turned towards Jen. "Ella's brothers."

"I kind of figured that." She shook her head. "But…" Her words trailed off when she remembered what Michael Franks had said. _Insurance_.

She paled, and turned towards Evan.

"Whoa, hey, you all right? Maybe you should lie down." Evan moved to get up off the floor but Jen grabbed his arm.

"I'm okay."

Evan sat slowly back down.

"I just remembered something Franks said." She whispered, staring wide eyed at the family reunion across the room, her fingers tightly gripping his wrist. She glanced worriedly at Evan. "Jamie's the one who took the enzyme, isn't he? Evan, he had to do it… Franks would have killed her. We can't let him go to jail…"

"He's not…" Evan cut her off, leaning closer, placing his hand reassuringly on top of hers. "He actually didn't take anything. He gave them an empty stasis container."

"He did?"

Evan nodded.

Jen frowned. "Wait. So… the enzyme…"

"Never left Atlantis."

"But what about the formula?"

"From one of your research samples."

"Right." Jen nodded, remembering her conversation with Franks. Her research notes – and enough of a sample to start the formula. But they wouldn't have had enough to finish.

"Evan…" She stared at him wide eyed. "Franks knows exactly who I am."

Evan blinked, and Jen was surprised at the speed with which his expression changed from concern to anger to nothingness. His fingertips lightly touched her chin and he stared long and hard at the furious red mark along the side of her jaw.

"Franks isn't going to bother you ever again." He stated firmly.

Jen's skin broke out in goosebumps as Evan dropped his hand.

"Major…" John was saying to the taller brother. "Why don't you go give Liam the good news. We'll let the nurses make sure Ella's good to go, then we'll get you back home. Jamie can stay with her."

"Liam?" Jen glanced at Evan.

"You met him this morning – well – yesterday morning. One of Wilsher's aides. Liam Shannon. Youngest brother."

"_Three_ brothers?" Jen blinked.

Evan nodded.

"All military?"

"Liam's just a kid - he's only interning - but he's definitely got what it takes."

"Why do I get the feeling there's more to the story?"

"Because there's more to the story." He angled his head.

"Three brothers, huh." Jen turned her face towards the little girl, still firmly wrapped in Jamie Shannon's arms. "I feel sorry for her boyfriends."

Evan snorted, making Jen smile. She immediately held her fingers against the side of her jaw. "Ow."

Evan reached up and pulled her hand away. "You need to get that looked at."

"I'm fine." She rolled her neck. "Nothing some Tylenol, a Jacuzzi, and three day's of uninterrupted sleep can't fix."

Evan raised his eyebrows. "Jacuzzi?"

"You know... we may be a warship," Colonel Caldwell's voice interrupted Jen's retort. "But even _we_ have a thing called furniture."

Jen blinked up – way up - at the Colonel, now standing beside them, his hands on his hips while he stared down at their sprawled position on the floor of the infirmary.

"Are those wedding rings?!" Caldwell frowned.

Jen and Evan quickly looked down at their hands – Jen's left hand on Evan's left wrist, his right hand covering hers - the sparkle of the rings clearly visible. And of course, their position on the floor had somehow become more than just... friendly... with Jen sitting sideways in the V of Evan's outstretched legs. She felt heat moving up her face and glanced up at Evan, who was trying to keep a straight face.

"Why, yes. They are." She finally answered, unable to stop staring at Evan, who'd lost his facial battle and was now grinning.

When the Colonel didn't immediately respond, Jen glanced up, fighting her own smile at his dubious expression.

"Sorry we couldn't invite you to the ceremony, Colonel." John chimed in, stepping up beside Caldwell. "We were trying to keep it on the downside. You know how it is. People find out you're as good as a judge and next thing you know you'll be booking ceremonies on the bridge."

Caldwell stared from John, to Jen, to Evan, to the rings.

Then he shook his head slowly. "God damn love boat..." He mumbled, then turned on his heel and strode into the corridor.

Jen tried to laugh, and yawn, and had to hold her hand to her face to complete each without wincing.

"Come on." Evan slid back and stood, pulling her to her feet. "You need to get that checked out."

"I said I'm fine."

"And I say… you're not CMO of this ship." John glared at her. "If Doctor Meyers says you're good to go, then you're good to go. Until then," he angled his head at the Doctor who was standing patiently off to the side.

Jen frowned, glaring at John. She sighed, then shook her head, walking with Meyers through the infirmary corridor to a quiet, empty section. She stopped and turned back towards Evan and John, who'd followed automatically. "Go." She ordered, angling her head towards the hallway.

"What? Oh. We're just-" John started.

"Go." She pointed to the doorway.

"Leaving." Evan finished.

"I think we've been dismissed." John grinned, backing towards the corridor. "Guess we know who wears the pants in your family."

"And don't you forget it." Came Jen's muttered curse as she closed the door behind them.

.

.

.

.

_A/N - Don't worry - we're not done yet! We still have a few details to wrap up ... like Wilsher for example... :P_


	19. Chapter 19

Jen didn't bother to hide the yawns any more.

Not that there was anyone around to hide them _from_.

Unless she counted the pigeon on the ledge to her right.

Leaning heavily on the railing, she watched the city moving below her, the Sunday traffic only slightly lighter than it's usual weekday counterpart. The sun had already dropped in behind the buildings, leaving the sky still bright, but promising a spectacular sunset if the orange hues already present were any indication.

She shivered and pulled her arms in closer around her. It was summer, and the day had been warm, but with the setting sun the humidity had cracked and broken. But it wasn't the air that gave her a chill so much as her tired and weary body's inability to warm itself.

After spending close to four hours in debriefing on the Daedalus, and another six at the SGC, she'd been physically awake for over thirty-six hours.

Agent Marks had offered her the use of the hotel suite, since it was technically still set aside for her. And, since they weren't due to gate back to Atlantis until Monday afternoon, she decided she'd be a fool to look a king-sized-mattress-and-Jacuzzi-tub gift horse in the mouth.

So she readily accepted the offer.

She'd nearly fallen asleep in the tub – twice. Once shocking herself awake when her nose hit the water, and the second time when her hand twitched and she knocked the shampoo bottle off the lip and onto the floor. She decided to get out since the water was getting cold… and she was apparently heading for a drowning.

After slipping into a tank top and cotton pajama bottoms, she'd climbed into the oversized bed and spent half-an-hour tossing and turning before giving up and heading out onto the balcony.

She'd filed everything away, dissected and analyzed, gave it a label and put it aside. Everything _but_ the pieces of the puzzle that didn't have to do with Franks.

And until she could figure those missing parts out… she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to sleep.

She knew Franks and his… henchmen… for lack of a better word – we're dead, and the lab destroyed thanks to a few well placed explosives courtesy of the engineers on the Daedalus. She knew little Ella Shannon was healthy, and alive, and back in the loving arms of her three brothers. The Shannon's would come out with little more than a reprimand for Liam and Jamie, and a promise from their oldest brother Ian they'd never do anything like that ever again.

She knew the case that was stolen from Wilsher's car contained a single vial of the enzyme and her notes specifically relating to increased strength in the subject – but luckily, there was no mention of the Wraith's location, Atlantis, or anything else that could be potentially damning to the IOA, the SGC, the Stargate program, or Atlantis. Which was a huge relief.

She also knew that Wilsher was getting off with an official letter of reprimand for his part in the theft – removing restricted property from the premises.

But that was it.

She wasn't sure how he'd managed to fluff under his behavior at the dinner – but he had. Somehow he'd copped to being drunk, which he wasn't, and admitted he gotten overly friendly, which he had, and then pulled some strings to get it all swept under the rug in return for political favor he'd have to owe someone in the future. It sucked, and she was pretty pissed off about it, but not nearly as angry as Evan had been when he'd found out.

Jen sighed.

No matter how much she tried to think around it… everything she knew, always spun back to the one thing she didn't know.

_Evan_.

They'd be going back to Atlantis tomorrow.

Home.

But then what?

Was everything being left here? On Earth? Written off to another time and place? What about the what-if's? What about whatever it was they'd briefly touched? Was the rest of it going to remain hidden? Would they go back to the way they'd been before – look but don't touch?

Could she do it, if she had to? Go back to the way they were?

She'd spent the last thirty minutes thinking about it… and the only answer she could come up with… was yes.

If that was all she could have… she'd take it.

But did she want to?

No. No, she didn't. She didn't want to go back to skirting around him. Dancing without music. She wanted to find out whatever it was… whatever it might be. She wanted… more.

Could she make the offer… knowing he might turn it down?

She sighed and closed her eyes, willing the sounds of the city to be gone. Wanting the breeze to taste of salt, not exhaust. Wanting the honking horns replaced with the soft sounds of the ocean waves rolling against the piers.

She wanted to go home.

At least there she had the opportunity to hide herself in her work.

Because hiding she was good at.

She yawned again and tightened the blanket around her shoulders, shivering against the touch of cool breeze across her skin.

"What…" The voice from behind her made her squeal and jump around, her hands clutching her throat. "…did I tell you about going anywhere alone?"

Evan glared at her from between the open patio doors.

"Evan." She exhaled, then cleared her throat, her hand clutched over her adrenaline spiked heart. "Lord, you scared the life out of me."

"And what if I'd been someone else?" He asked quietly, stepping out onto the patio.

Damn he looked good. Really… really… good. BDU pants, service boots, and a navy t-shirt that had to be a size too small from the way it was pulling across the front of his chest. His hair was slightly mussed and his eyes were watching her with a deep seriousness. He needed a shave, but the dark shadowing along his jaw only added to the aura of strength that seemed to be surrounding him. Her fingertips itched to touch and she clutched them tightly within the folds of the blanket to keep herself from following through.

Jen took a long, deep breath and exhaled, willing her mind to work. "Uh… someone else? Um… well… Unless you're Spiderman, you wouldn't have gotten in." She extracted her hand out from under the blanket and pointed back through the room to the double doors leading to the hallway, and the love seat parked against it. A huge vase filled with silk flowers balanced precariously on the lip of one of the cushions.

Evan raised an eyebrow, then turned back towards her.

"Interesting doorbell."

Jen shrugged, then sighed. "Unless the bad guys are using Asguard beaming technology, I figured I was pretty safe."

He frowned. "What if there's a fire?"

Jen couldn't contain the soft snort at that thought.

"Then I'll move the couch." She smiled, but it quickly faded when he didn't respond in kind.

He stepped closer. "You don't have a transmitter."

"I don't plan on needing one today."

"And you _planned_ on needing it yesterday?" He raised an eyebrow.

Jen angled her head. "Um… well… no."

He stopped in front of her.

Jen wasn't really sure how to read the expression on his face. His eyes seemed bluer than before – almost grey. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't really frowning either. He just looked… serious… so she told him so.

He didn't answer, just angled his head, watching her. "You sure you're okay?" He finally asked.

Jen started to smile, but the intensity of his gaze made her hesitate. She took a step closer, closing the gap between them. Tipping her head she stared up into his face.

"I'm fine." She answered softly. "Thanks to you."

His eyes shifted to something to her left before sliding back to hers. "If I'd been paying attention in the first place-"

Jen's fingers covered his mouth, cutting him off. "You are so not going there."

"But-"

"No." She said firmly, grabbing his face with both hands, the blanket pooling around her feet. The whiskers along the side of his jaw tickled her palms. "There's no way any of us could have known what was going to happen. It's over. It's done. I'm fine. Ella's fine. And don't you forget for one minute, I'm still mad at you for that whole superman stunt." She shook her head and lowered her hands but he reached for them, holding her fingers firmly in his.

"Jeeze, Jen." His voice dropped and she could suddenly see the pain that flashed behind his eyes. "When I saw Rousseau pointing that gun at your head… Shit… I don't think I've ever felt that helpless before in my life."

"Evan." She stepped towards him, twisting her fingers around until she was holding his hand as firmly as he held hers. "You saved my life… even if I do think it was a stupid and reckless thing to do. You saved my life."

"If I'd been a fraction of a second slower…"

"But you weren't." She insisted. "And if you keep beating yourself up about something you did… right… then… then…" she hesitated and shook her head. "Then I don't know what to do because you didn't do anything wrong… so…" she nodded and shrugged. "Okay I'm completely out of ideas. But I'll think of something."

Evan snorted, and Jen was relieved to see the slight impression of a smile.

"Well, that's _almost_ a smile." She said with a pout. "It'll have to do."

This time Evan couldn't stop the grin, nor did he want to.

She'd scared him, being taken so quickly, scared him by being threatened, and nearly given him a heart attack at being almost executed. Then she'd yelled at him for saving her life, held her own through hours and hours of debriefing, and disappeared while he'd been in follow up discussions.

He'd wanted to throttle her when he found out she'd come back to the damn hotel suite for the night… _alone_. But wasn't sure if he should be pissed off she'd left without telling him, relieved she was okay, happy she'd come back alone and not with someone else, or angry she'd come back alone and not with him.

His head was spinning through so many different emotions he didn't know where to start. So he started with her.

Her hair was still damp from the shower, messy and tangled, hanging loosely around her bare shoulders. She looked so damn cute… sexy… standing there in a pink tank top and matching hello-kitty jammie-pants, her bare toes sticking out from the bottom of the too-long hem.

She looked… younger somehow… vulnerable. Her eyes carried a trace of weariness that only sleep would cure. The long, uninterrupted kind.

He stared at the blue hue beneath the skin along the left side of her face. His fingers lifted to touch, but she kept her hand tightly wrapped in his, so he ended up raising both their arms instead. He brushed his knuckle lightly along the side of her jaw.

"This… I didn't prevent." He said quietly.

Jen tilted her head, pressing his hand against her cheek. "No… I did that to myself. I should have known the difference between one of Laura's _little_ explosions and something that would cave the roof in."

Evan felt the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. She had most certainly done some damage with that little cocktail. She'd destroyed half the lab – no wonder Franks had been pissed off. Franks had underestimated her… just like everyone always did.

Then Evan frowned, his eyes moving from the bruise on her face down to another he could now see on the inside her arm. He hadn't seen her with her arms and shoulders bare until now. And he hadn't seen this new bruise.

Taking a step back, his chest tightened. He released her hands and straightened her arm slowly, angling his head to get a better look.

Jen frowned and followed his eyes. "What?"

He held her upper arm, just above the bruise, and raised his eyes to hers with a thousand questions. "Are there more?"

"More? More what?"

"Bruises?"

She stared up at him for what felt like an eternity. Then she shrugged. "Yes."

He wanted to know… but he didn't want to know.

Jen shook her head slowly, but her hand subconsciously reached for her throat and he followed her fingertips, noting the discoloration along the side of her neck. How the hell hadn't he noticed that before? And what else had he not seen?

He could feel his chest constricting.

"Evan… they're just bruises." She stared up at him. "They'll go away."

Releasing her arm, Evan stepped back. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he clenched them into fists at his sides.

After a moment, she tipped her head to the side and pointed to the soft tissue beneath her jaw, and the two small circular bruises on each side that he'd just noticed. "Rousseau was… upset… I blew up the lab." Then she turned and lifted her hair, showing him a perfectly formed thumb print on the left side of her neck, and the accompanying fingerprints on the right. Then she let her hair drop, and turned back around, pointing out the one he'd already seen on her upper arm, a second on her left forearm, and it's matching counterpart on her right.

"Oh… yeah… and then there's this…" She turned to the side and hiked up the hem of her tank top with her right hand. With her left thumb, she lowered the waistband on her jammie-pants, and showed him the angry, red, vampire-looking fang-marks just above her left hip – a souvenir from the taser.

He stared at the smooth, creamy skin, and the vicious welts. He covered them up with his palm, urgently seeking to hide them away. Forget about them. Pretend it never happened. "Will it scar?" He heard himself asking.

Her hand covered his, pressing his palm against her cool skin and he looked up, suddenly feeling very lost.

"No." She said softly, the fingers of her free hand gently brushing over the side of his jaw. "No scar. No one will know it was ever there."

"_I_ will."

"Then it'll be our little secret." She answered, her thumb teasing across his chin.

Evan fought a sudden urge to grab it with his tongue and suck it into his mouth. "Secret?" He said slowly, unable to stop his index finger from sliding across the smooth skin of her hip where his hand was still being firmly held beneath hers. "Is that what this is?"

Her eyes were wide and he frowned to see a sudden flash of hurt before it was quickly hidden away. Her hand froze against his cheek and she slowly dropped her arms to her sides.

"I… is…" She swallowed, her teeth trapping her bottom lip. "Do you… Is that what you want?"

He pressed his palm into the soft skin of her side, then slid his fingers slowly around to her lower back, where he splayed his hand over the soft curve of her spine. She inhaled sharply and arched her back, but didn't move away.

"No." He finally answered, sliding closer, giving her time to retreat if she wanted to. "Do you?"

She shook her head. "No."

He wasn't sure just how badly he'd wanted to know that until the relief surged through him.

He inched closer, almost smiling to feel her hands trembling ever so slightly as they pressed lightly against his sides. "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

He lowered his head. "Really sure?"

She nodded again.

His head lowered further, his eyes locked on her now parted lips. Her lids were lowered as she stared directly at his mouth. He stopped a breath away – his lips hovering just over hers.

"Positive?"

"Evan?" Jen exhaled, her breath mixing with his.

"Yes?"

"Shut up and kiss me." She whispered.

Always a man to follow orders… kiss her is exactly what he did.

Dropping his head, she met him halfway, and he tasted her sweetness and hesitation. With his fingers threaded through her damp hair, he pulled her closer, exploring tentatively at first, but the way she rose up on the tips of her bare toes pulled him deeper and he felt his soul falling. Her tongue reached out to dance with his, a soft whimper escaping from the back of her throat. He pressed closer, feeling his body reacting with heat and vengeance. He couldn't stop his answering groan when her fingers slid up the side of his neck. With one hand tightly gripping his upper arm, and the other sliding through his hair, she had him frozen in place and time and he most certainly didn't want to leave.

Ever.

When they finally broke apart, Jen was having trouble breathing, trouble thinking, and trouble standing. She braced her hands against his shoulders, suddenly realizing she actually needn't worry – he was already holding her up.

"Okay… wow." She slid her arms around his neck and dropped her head against his shoulder, her heart skittering so sporadically inside her ribcage she could almost hear it.

"Yeah." Evan managed to croak, then cleared his throat.

After a few moments, Jen exhaled sharply. "Thank _god_ we didn't do that on the dance floor."

"Oh?" Evan smiled over the top of her head. "Why's that?"

She lifted her head and tilted her neck back. "Because my legs won't work."

"I see." He grinned. "Then maybe we should sit down."

Jen nodded. "Probably a good idea."

"That would involve moving." He raised an eyebrow.

"Usually."

"You might have to let go of me."

"You first." She narrowed her gaze.

Neither one of them let go of the other.

Evan started to laugh, and glanced over his shoulder at one of the reclining patio chairs in the corner. With his arms tightly wrapped around her waist, and her arms clasped around his neck, he stepped back, and she stepped forward, until the back of his knees hit the edge of the chair. He sat down, pulling her down with him, making her squeal as she fell on top of him and nearly rolled off the far side.

"You're right…" She blinked when he stopped her fall, her upper body dangling half off the chair. "This is much better."

Evan snorted and hauled her up, angling his chin towards her discarded blanket lying in the middle of the patio. "Go get your blanket."

Jen scrambled off the chair and retrieved the blanket. Evan hiked himself back in the chair, and dropped his legs off on either side. When she returned, the blanket once again draped around her, he reached for the edges and guided her down, tucking her in between his legs. Curling her feet up beneath the blanket, she rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her, settling her against his chest.

"That's better." She acknowledged.

"Hmm." He agreed, adjusting his legs to a more comfortable position and settling back against the cushioned seat.

After a few moments, Jen yawned loudly, then sighed, making him laugh when she buried her cold nose against the side of his neck. "It's the middle of summer, how the hell can your nose be cold?"

"I'm tired." She answered. "I always get cold when I'm tired.

"Then go to sleep." He said simply.

She yawned again and shook her head. "Careful what you wish for." She sighed sleepily. "You sit here too long and I'm totally going to fall asleep right on you. Just give me a shake when you're ready to go, 'kay?"

Evan rested the back of his head against the cushion, and smiled up into the approaching darkness.

He wasn't going anywhere.

.

.

And that was exactly the position John found them in several hours later after he'd given up trying to reach either one of them on the radio.

His CMO - curled beneath a large blanket - was sprawled across the Major's chest, and the Major's arms held her possessively, even in sleep.

John had to smile to note that neither one of them had bothered removing the fake wedding rings yet.

He made a note to have the SGC bump their gate window back a few hours.

It was the least he could do.

After all, he'd just spent the last two hours convincing everyone on board the Daedalus the Doctor and the Major really _were _married.


	20. Chapter 20 Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Evan squinted up at the bright morning sunshine, and wondered if maybe he should have left his sunglasses on.

Not that it mattered for any reason other than he hated squinting.

He was going to be recognized no matter what.

Eyeing the expensively manicured lawn, he purposely stepped off the intricately puzzled brick path and walked across the grass. The front archway and the massive double French doors glared back at him as he stepped over the stonework surrounding the front garden.

When he reached the doors, he debated ringing the bell, but decided a knock was much more intrusive.

He banged loudly, and waited.

Eventually the door opened, and he wasn't surprised to see the maid. Giving her his message, he shook off her offer to wait inside, choosing instead to hold his spot in the open doorway.

He turned his back on the house and stared across the huge front lawn, it's acre of old growth trees and deep green grass not needing a sign to point out it was very, very expensive. Overly expensive in the disgusting sort of way.

When heavy footsteps sounded behind him, he felt the edge of a smile tickling the corner of his mouth, but shut it down.

"What is it." The man's voice grated across the inside of Evan's skull.

Evan turned around, not bothering to wait for any indication he was recognized.

His fist shot out and connected with a very satisfying crack, sending Director Marcus Wilsher sprawling backwards onto the polished hardwood floor of his front foyer.

The director let out a grunt, and lay still.

Evan bent forward and patted him on the cheek. "Dr. Keller sends her best. I hope I don't need to remind you of what's going to happen if you touch her again." Then he straightened and spun on his heel, making a beeline for the shiny black SUV waiting at the curb.

Hopping into the passenger seat, he'd barely closed the door before John was squawking the tires as he pulled away from the curb.

"Better?" John smirked.

Evan grabbed his sunglasses off the dashboard and slipped them on. "Much."

"He probably recognized you." John glanced over at him.

Evan shrugged. "Most likely."

"Could cause problems." John raised an eyebrow.

"It was worth it." Evan answered, snapping on his seat belt.

"You know… it's strange how someone who looks _exactly_ like you is also carrying a grudge against Wilsher." Agent Ryan chimed in from the back seat.

"Yeah." Marks leaned forward and yanked a well worn baseball cap down over Evan's head. "Good thing you've got such an unbreakable alibi. I mean there has to be at least ten, maybe twelve people who are with you in my garage - right now - helping me work on the GTO."

Evan laughed at the completely unorthodox alibi. "You need that many people to work on your car?"

"No." Ryan snorted. "He needs that many people to help him drink all the beer."

"What's wrong with it this time?" John asked, shoulder checking as he merged them up the on ramp and onto the freeway.

"Hmm… good question." Marks shrugged. "Breaks?"

John shook his head. "We fixed those twice already. Leaky gas tank?

"Three times." Marks shook his head.

"Shocks?" John suggested.

"Hey. Shocks is good." Ryan nodded. "I don't think we've done those more than once yet."

"And just how many times have you guys… ah… _fixed_ … this car?" Evan glanced over the seat at Marks and Ryan.

Ryan grinned and gave his partner a shove. "He's had it sitting in his garage for ten years now."

"Ten years?" Evan looked incredulous. "Just how bad a mechanic are you?"

Marks raised his eyebrows in challenge. "Just how many more times you think you're going to need to hit Wilsher?"

Evan nodded. "I see… So you're an _excellent_ mechanic."

"Good answer, Major." Ryan laughed.

Marks leaned back in his seat. "You drive like my grandma, Sheppard. Now kick this puppy up – we have a lot of beer to drink."

"He can't drink." John angled his chin at Evan. "His wife's a real stick-in-the-mud."

Evan turned his head slowly to glare at John. "Yea... about that..."

"About what?" John asked innocently, pretending to read the various street signs they passed.

"Any reason why half the crew was _congratulating _me this morning?"

"Nope..." John shook his head. "No idea what you're taking about."

"She's going to kick your ass whens he finds out..." Evan warned, grinning when John actually looked slightly green.

"_She_?" Ryan laughed. "Whad'ya do now, Sheppard?"

"Nothing." John answered quickly, then glanced in the rear-view mirror at Marks. "Although we might need to find something for _me _to fix on that GTO."

.

.

END

.

.

_Author's Note - well, that's it folks! An Evan/Jen story! Thanks for coming along for the ride, and hope you liked this little roller coaster. After having written this, I've decided I kind of like this pairing and just may throw a few more E/J stories your way! :P GLENN is already working on a couple more stories (R/K and an E/J) so I'll post them as soon as they let me! Until then - behave yourselves!!!! - Nika_


End file.
